


Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary

by catinacravat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Captivity, Castration, Forced Feminization, Gaslighting, Grooming, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Restraints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 18:12:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 34,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12138231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catinacravat/pseuds/catinacravat
Summary: Samuel had been trying, and failing, to find someone to take the place of his dear, departed daughter Mary for quite some time when he spotted the perfect candidate. For some, the fact she was currently a he and going by the name "Dean Winchester" would have been a problem, but not for him. With a little surgery and a lot of training he just knew he'd have the perfect substitute and he was right. She slotted into his life and into his bed like she'd always been there, like she belonged there.





	1. Making Mary

**Author's Note:**

> This story is very dark but as it is told via Samuel's point of view they are often not presented as such. Also, as a note, since in Samuel's mind Dean _is_ Mary and therefore a girl, female pronouns are used for him throughout the story.
> 
> Only the major kinks are tagged, see the end notes for a full list of kinks and possible squicks. Written for a spnkinkmeme prompt.

It'd taken more than a dozen attempts at finding an acceptable new Mary before Samuel finally hit paydirt. She wasn't perfect, none of them were, but maybe the problem was his previous picks were all too weak to become the Mary he needed and Mary was anything but weak. Sure, there was the minor issue of she (for the moment anyway) actually being technically a he, but that was fixable and he just knew he'd finally found the right one.

It was pure luck he spotted this Mary, then going by the ridiculous name of "Dean," dumpster diving for food outside of the Burger King on the outskirts of town. Bent over the lip of the dumpster, butt in the air, it was all Samuel could do not to pinch that perky ass right then and there. It was a damn good thing he waited though because when the kid stood and he got a good look at that beautiful face, so much like his beloved Mary, he knew he had to have her.

It took a few weeks of careful watching to learn everything he could about his new, most special of angels. Dean Winchester. Not quite eleven. Mother dead for years, father locked up in an asylum for the criminally insane. Negligent foster parents who barely fed his poor girl and definitely didn't appreciate her properly and who often yelled that they were only keeping her for the monthly checks they got from the state. Perfect.

Knowing social services tended to do annual checkups, Samuel bided his time and waited until after Dean's birthday, which, coincidentally, wasn’t that much before the end of the school year. With any luck that would give him until September before anyone even reported Dean missing and she'd be Mary by then. Or dead. But either way it wouldn't matter. Dean Winchester would be long gone.

It wasn't hard to sneak up behind her one morning when she was scavenging at another dumpster and slap a chloroform soaked rag over her face and hold her tight until she passed out. Lovely slip of a thing, fit right into his arms and felt right, like she was supposed to be there. Like she'd always been there.

He figured the sooner he took care of that unsightly problem between her legs the better so he immediately took her to a doctor (well, veterinarian, but close enough) who owed him a favor or two (or three or four since Samuel had let the man have his fun with several of the previous girls who'd tried, and failed, to be his Mary) and had the man take care of it. It was fascinating to watch as those unsightly little balls get pulled gently away from her body, clamped, seared and then snipped off. A little stitch work and then good as new. The penis took a bit more work, Mary did have to have a usable urethra after all, but Doc worked his magic and pretty soon that awful prick was a thing of the past as well.

"You going to need me to come out to your place to change the bandages?" Doc asked as he was finishing up.

Not liking the leer he saw, and not willing to share Mary with anyone else, Samuel shook his head. "I'll be all the way out at my cabin, there's no need for you to make the trip. Besides, I got it from here. If things work out I'll be back for those drugs we talked about though. My Mary's going to need them to develop like the proper girl she is."

Doc laughed at that, but Samuel didn't pay him any mind. Mary was going to be beautiful once she was grown, of course men would want her. No one but him would ever have her- he had no qualms about killing any man that even looked at her twice - but he couldn't blame them for it. This was Mary after all.

Samuel was careful when he carried her out of the clinic, wrapping her in a sheet to keep her not only safe but nice and clean before setting her in the trunk. He took his time in driving out to the cabin. It might take an extra hour that way, but he wouldn't want any accidental bumps or bruises to mar his sweet girl's skin. Purposeful ones would be a different story. If she misbehaved then she deserved whatever punishment he deemed necessary, but he couldn't stand the thought of her hurting unnecessarily. It was hard, not to speed, to pick his way slowly over the ruts on the old abandoned highway, especially once he got to the turnoff that lead to his land and it was another ten miles on what was more of an idea of a road than anything actually resembling a flat, paved surface.

He'd like to have immediately taken her into her new home, dressed her in the cute little undies and training bra her bought her and started getting to know her better right away, but he knew he needed to wait on all of that until she was ready and even though he was sure she'd do better than those other, pale attempts at his Mary, he still figured it was going to take at least a few weeks to get her to accept her new role in life. So he carried her to the old root cellar behind the cabin that he'd repurposed into secure room to keep his girls while trying to mold them into the perfect sweetheart he thought they'd become.

Practice made perfect and it didn't take more than a moment to secure her to the bed in there - a wrist to either corner of the headboard, an ankle to the corners of the footboard. She was so slender, so dainty, he had to reset the manacles so they would be tight enough. Too loose and they'd rub and he'd risk chafing and welts and he couldn't have that, could he?

Stretched out like that, still naked other than the bandages, he took the opportunity to wash her down with a washcloth dipped in her favorite, lavender scented water. Next he chose a nail polish - a lovely, demure pink, nothing too flashy, his Mary was not a common harlot or whore - and carefully painted her nails, fingers and toes. Restrained as she was, he wouldn't need to worry about them smudging before they dried while he brushed her hair with her boar bristle brush. One hundred strokes, just like always. He tried to ignore how her hair was much too short, once she was up and about he could fix that with a wig until it grew out to a proper length. Then it was a simple matter of tucking her in under her favorite quilt and letting her get some sleep.

He dithered at the doorway, debating if she needed a nightlight or a gag, but decided against both. A little darkness never hurt anyone and if she screamed it'd make it easier to know when she was awake so he turned off the light and locked the door and headed back to the cabin to make some dinner. Child rearing was hard work and he'd built up quite the appetite.

After a nice steak and potato dinner Samuel set to gathering the supplies he'd prepared. First he set out all the things he had for Mary: the beautiful clothes she'd wear once she was ready, the makeup she'd need to make her even more beautiful, two different wigs so her hair'd be just right. Then he set about preparing what he'd need to train her up right: his shotgun, box of shells, plenty of rope, blindfold, cuffs, chains, choker, switch, all his favorite toys. Then he showered, shaved, and dressed in his Sunday suit. He wanted her to recognize him so he had to look his best, didn't he?

The wait was interminable.

Finally, four hours after bringing her home, he heard the first screams.

He'd learned his lesson though, you couldn't go running at the first little noise your darling made, you didn't want them to think you were at their beck and call. No, you had to be firm, teach them you made the rules. If you didn't train them right from the very beginning they'd never learn how to behave properly.

It was nearly two hours later by the time his anticipation and excitement got the better of him and he decided it was time to head back out to the root cellar. Between the fact she'd still be woozy from the surgery and the drugs Doc pumped into her and the way she was restrained he didn't bother with taking any of his training implements along with him this time. There would be plenty of time for all that later, for now he had to go get acquainted with his new little girl.

"Help! Help! Somebody help! Somebody-" His poor girl's voice was already a little rough from all her screaming but she still had her wits about her and cut off the second he flung the door open.

"Quiet now, girl," he ordered. Wanting to get a good look at her, he flicked on the light. Mary cried out and squeezed her eyes shut; after lying in complete darkness for so long the sudden brightness must have been pretty painful, but it worked to Samuel's advantage and gave him time to drink her in without her being aware.

Somehow she'd managed to shift out from under the blanket, letting him see all her pretty little toes and her gorgeous, manacled left ankle. Her face was flushed, damp from crying and he couldn't help himself from rushing over and brushing his thumb across her cheek, removing those pesky tear tracks.

She startled at that. Eyes blinking open, she squinted up at him, stopping him just as he was about to lick those precious tears off his hand. "Hello there, Mary. How are you feeling?"

"My name's not Mary. It's Dean, you sick freak!" she shouted, arching as much as she could and pulling and kicking, for all the good it would do her. "Let me go!"

Samuel reached down and slapped his hand over her face, covering her mouth and pinching her nose shut. "Don't you ever speak to me like that again. Do you understand me?"

Little spitfire that she was, even as her eyes bugged out she still tried to fight. He waited, watching as her struggles lessened and then stopped, her eyes fluttering madly before he let go. He didn't want to hurt his girl, after all. At least not yet.

He continued to loom over her, his hand stroking her chin, ready to cover her mouth again if necessary, as she coughed and gasped. "There now, Mary. You're okay. Take it slow. Deep breaths."

Slowly, deliberately, she bit out, "My. Name. Is. Dean."

And Samuel saw red.

"You little shit." He clamped his hand down over her mouth and nose again. "You think you're too good to be my Mary? Do you?" With his other hand he undid his tie and pulled it over his head. "You think you have any say in the matter whatsoever?" When she looked like she was going to pass out again he released her mouth, but immediately shoved the tie in as an impromptu gag. "Newsflash, kiddo, you don't."

While she was still dazed he made quick work of undoing the locks that attached her manacles to the headboard and then grabbed her around the neck and pulled her forward and squeezed. "You're my Mary now. My sweet angel Mary. And the sooner you accept that the better." He held her like that for probably a moment too long, marveling how his hand fit so beautifully around her throat, but her going limp shook him out of his awe and he loosened his hold enough to restrict her movements but to let the blood flow properly again. Working quickly, he had her legs free and she was in his arms (even with the manacles she was still so light, so easy to hold) and he whisked her off the bed and over to the corner with the grate.

It took less than a minute before she was suspended by her wrists from the hook hanging from the ceiling. Poor thing was so tiny her feet barely touched the floor and the chains creaked and protested as he stretched them to their limits so they could attach to the manacles on her ankles. If she learned her lesson and showed some respect maybe he'd consider winching it down a bit, but for the short term the pain would help her focus.

"Wakey, wakey, Mary-baby," he sing-songed before pulling the cord to release a short burst of water from the cistern above the cellar, dousing her.

Mary sputtered, coming back to her senses. Impressively, the first thing she did was try to kick him. Didn't work of course, but he admired her spunk.

"Now we seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot," he began once she quit thrashing. "You didn't have much of a life back in the city, but it was yours and I understand that, but you have to understand that things are different now. That life is dead and gone and you're never going back to it. You're Mary now. My Mary. And the sooner you accept it the better off you'll be."

She didn't accept it, not that he really expected her to, and he could just barely make out muffled curses coming from behind her gag. Time to put the matter to rest then. She tried to pull away from him as he reached out (which made him actually laugh out loud, where the hell did she think she could go?) and then flinched when he grabbed the edge of the bandages, her eyes going wide in surprise. It made sense, he supposed, that she hadn't even know what he'd had Doc do to her.

The look on her face when the final sodden bandage was removed was priceless. If he'd been a pettier man the scream that even the gag couldn't muffle would have been delicious, but as it was all he did was tap his finger against the stitches where those awful balls used to be and click his tongue. "Like I said, you're never going back to your old life. You may as well get used to your new one."

He leaned over and gave her a kiss on her forehead, trailed his fingers up her chest and tweaked one of her perky little nipples before grabbing her chin and dragging her eyes away from staring at Doc's work and forced her to look at him. "Now I'm going to let you cool off and calm down. I expect you to be better behaved when I come back or there will be consequences. You hear me?" And then, because he could, he forced her to nod. "Good. I'll leave the light on this time, give you a chance to get a good look at what I had done to you. I know you're probably not happy with how you look right now, but don't worry, once you heal up I've some other changes I'm going to make to you. You're going to be perfect once I'm done."

He gave her one more kiss, this time on her adorable button nose, and then headed to the door to lock her in for the night. He really should have brought the camera, he thought as he drank in the sight of her hanging there, shivering and crying, this was a memory he would treasure forever.

It was morning before Samuel returned to the root cellar. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but he'd needed to give Mary time to begin to come to terms with her new lot in life and had decided to have a beer while he waited and one beer led to another which led to another... It was stupid. He'd been stupid. He was man enough to admit that to himself. But this wasn't like the time that one inadequate replacement (which was it, the fourth? the fifth?) had died of exposure because he'd spent the night drinking and forgotten he'd left her chained up outside in the snow. That one wasn't strong. That one hadn't deserved to be Mary. This one did.

To his relief, Mary was alive. Hanging limply and shaking like a leaf, the poor dear, but alive. He crossed the room in a rush, taking her head in his hands and lifting it up so he could look into her beautiful eyes. "It's all right, Mary. I've got you."

She was dazed, blinking in that way that meant she didn't really see him or understand what was going on, but that was okay. That actually made things easier because he could see how scraped up her wrists were as a result of her struggling and the faint blue tinge to her fingertips from the diminished blood supply due to having her arms over her head for so long and not having her totally awake while he was dealing with that meant she was less likely to hurt herself further by fighting with him.

The first thing he did was haul the stool over so when he lifted her to slip her manacles off the ceiling hook he could set her down immediately. Her ankles were still chained to the floor, but it wouldn't do to leave her free to thrash around with her upper body when she came back to herself, who knew how badly she could hurt herself? Luckily, the corner had been retrofitted years ago with numerous ways of immobilizing, as well as punishing, his dear, sweet Mary.

He decided on the thick, butter soft, leather straps this time: one around her neck, another around her chest and under her armpits, and a third across her stomach, just above her cute little belly button. He buckled each around her, nice and tight, before attaching them to the wall behind her. There. That'd keep her safe.

Unlocking the manacles, he grimaced and the broken skin. Poor baby, that had to hurt. She made an adorably sweet, muffled cry of pain and tried to pull her hands away when he poured the peroxide over the abrasions. He gently flushed the wound with both water and alcohol (which resulted in yet another wonderful reaction from her), massaged in some antibiotic cream and then gently wrapped her wrists in bandages. Then, since he could and it would make things easier, using extra bandaging he tied each wrist to either side of the stool.

Bending like he was to do that it gave him a good view of his poor girl's groin. Luckily, despite all the struggling she'd done in the night, it looked like she hadn't managed to damage Doc's work any. Sure, there was a bit of blood here and there but some gentle work with a bit of gauze and it was good as new. He had to admit, the way she shuddered as he stroked her stitches was heady. But he couldn't play. Not yet. Not until she was ready and all healed up.

"There we go," he said, smoothing on a generous amount of antibiotic cream and taping new bandages in place. "Now how's that feel, better?"

It was only when she let out a garbled mess of a reply that he remembered about the gag. Grabbing her chin he pried open her mouth and pulled the sodden, soggy mess out of her mouth. Damn, he'd loved that tie and she'd gone and ruined it. Some girls were so ungrateful when it came to the gifts they'd been given.

He raised his hand to strike her but her immediate flinch made him rein himself in. She'd spent the night hanging from her wrists, wet, cold and in pain. Maybe she'd learned her lesson. He doubted it, not when she'd been so defiant to start, but who knows. Maybe she had.

Part of him hoped she hadn't though. Disciplining his girl had always been so much fun.

"I bet you're thirsty," Samuel said instead, examining her face. Were her eyes a little sunken? They looked like they could be. Dehydration was setting in then. Come to think of it, she probably hadn't had anything to eat or drink since that totally inadequate breakfast those morons who were supposed to be raising her had provided. "Hungry too, probably," he added. "But don't you worry none. You're mine now, I'll take care of you."

Mary didn't look too relieved at that, but he (grudgingly) supposed he hadn't given her much reason to believe him. Not yet. Leaving her on the stool, she was restrained enough she shouldn't be able to hurt herself, he went and collected everything he'd brought with him to share with her this morning. First things first, he poured her some water and held it up to her lips.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice all raspy and cracking, as she stared suspiciously at the glass.

"Water."

Her eyes shifted from the glass to his face. "What else?"

Oh, he'd chosen well with her; she was a smart one. "Just water," he replied, quite truthfully. Doctoring water with enough of anything to affect someone and having it be undetectable was damn near impossible so never bothered to even try doing it anymore. Besides, the oatmeal he'd made for her breakfast could easily hide a multiple of sins.

Her shoulders slumped a little at that, not in defeat, but like she was taking him at his word. Either she was more observant than he'd expected and she'd read the truth in his face or she was already starting to crack. Both worked. Carefully he tipped the glass up, allowing a little water to dribble into her mouth. She held it there, on her tongue for a second before swallowing it down and greedily opening her mouth in a silent request for more.

Oh, no, he wasn't having that. "What do you say?" Maybe it was the confusion on her face that kept him from punishing her right away but whatever it was he clarified, "When someone gives you a present. What do you say?"

He could see her fighting with herself, desperate for the water but not wanting to acknowledge anything he did as kind. Samuel could tell the minute the anger won out. "Go to hell, asshole," Mary croaked out. "You're probably just going to kill me anyway."

Samuel actually laughed at that. "Not for a while, sweetheart. Not until I have some fun with you first."

He'd been prepared for the possibility she'd be too stubborn to drink or eat from his hand so soon. Plenty of the other of his Marys had acted similarly. He had a neat little contraption just for that eventuality- a gag/funnel combination he'd built. His girls needed proper food and water after all, and it was job to make sure they got it, whether or not they liked it. They usually didn't, not that he blamed them. He couldn't imagine being fed this way was remotely comfortable, but that was their own fault for not being a good little girl, wasn't it?

Mary tried to jerk her head away from his hand when he showed her what he'd pulled out of the bag, but she had nowhere to go, trussed up like she was. All he had to do was dig his fingers into either side of her face to pry open her jaw and then cram the thing into her mouth. The rim of it settled in just behind her teeth while the tube pressed against her tongue before following it down her throat, tickling her gag reflex. Well, the sooner she learned to ignore that the better.

With the main part in place all he had to do was add the wide, conical extension and she was all ready to go. He started her off with some water, just tipping her head back and pouring it in and watching it swirl down the funnel with no option but for her to swallow it. Sure she sputtered and struggled, but he didn't pay her any mind.

Next was the oatmeal. He'd prepared it special for her, flavoring it with peanut butter for protein and a few other special additions by way of a cocktail of drugs to help her on her way to being a better Mary. Of course, he'd planned on spoon feeding it to her, so it was kind of thick, but it didn't take long to stir in enough water to fix its consistency so she could eat it via the funnel. It took some time though, alternating between the oatmeal and water, before she finished her breakfast.

"Okay, Mary," he said once he'd put the empty containers away, "Now that you've a bit of food in you I expect you to be in better spirits and for your manners to have improved. So I'm going to give you another chance here."

The gagging noise she made when he pulled the device out of her mouth was not in the least bit ladylike, but he was willing to forgive it considering the circumstances. He waited while she worked out the last of her gasps and coughs before prompting her again. "I'm waiting. And I tell you what, show me you have good manners and I'll even take off those straps and your manacles."

She thought on that for a bit before making a vague attempt at sounding polite when she said, "Thank you."

"Thank you for what?"

He could practically see her swallowing down her anger. "Thank you for breakfast."

"Now, that wasn't that hard, was it?" True to his word, he bent down to unlock the manacles. He'd needed to get a better look there anyway to make sure Mary hadn't done any damage to the skin under them during the night. There was a little bruising, but overall he was pretty happy how unblemished those beautiful ankles of hers were. It didn't surprise him at all when she tried to kick him as he pressed a kiss onto the inside of her right ankle, he'd made sure to have a good grip on both of legs in case that happened, but even the aborted attempt deserved some punishment so he gathered her knees together and pulled down a little while pressing them against the stool. The result caused her butt to shift to the edge of the seat, pushing her groin out and he smacked it hard, right along the stitches causing her to yelp in pain. Good.

While she was recovering from that he grabbed a thin metal bar and slipped it behind her back, but in front of her elbows, forcing them back and trapping the bar since her wrists were still tied to the front of the stool.

"What are you doing? You said-" she began, but even as she spoke he pulled cuffs out of the bag and had them on her ankles before she even knew what was happening. A minute later the cuffs were tied to the bar behind her while a second bar was secured along the inside of her knees.

He undid and removed the belts then, tipping her forward as he did so she fell up against him and before she could try to pull away he had her wrists free from the stool and tied to the bar between her knees. It wasn't quite as if he'd hogtied her but the result was she was he had an arm full of his darling and there wasn't much she could do about it.

"You promised!" she yelled into his chest as he added the pièce de résistance, a noose tied out of the softest silk she'd probably ever felt. He didn't tighten it all that much, but it ran straight down her spine to attach to the bottom bar which meant she had to keep her back nice and straight or risk choking herself. It was for her own good. Proper posture was important, after all.

He stroked her hair (still much too short), trying to calm her as he carried her to the bed. "I said I'd get you out of the straps and manacles. I didn't say anything about not putting you in something else."

Samuel lay down on the bed, his pretty little girl in his arms, pressed up against him. If he closed his eyes he could almost trick himself into believing she was his Mary from all those years ago. "You're so beautiful, Mary. Just you wait, you're going to learn to love it here with me. Once you get trained up right you won't have to stay locked up out here in the cold but you can be in the cabin with me or even, someday, back at my house. Don't you want that?"

She opened her mouth, but before she could get a word out he covered it with his hand. "Now, now, you don't want to spoil the moment and make me have to punish you, do you? I don't think you'd like that at all. Do you need me to gag you? I can if you want. It'd be no trouble. It might even be easier for you."

He removed his hand so she could speak. "No! No gag." She flinched as he shifted to get more comfortable and added a quick, "Please."

"That's my girl." It made his heart swell with pride over how polite she was being. They lay there for a while, her pressed up against him while he stroked her. His right hand lay across her chest, holding her close, while he explored her body with his left. She had the most amazing thighs. Flexed and stretched due to their positioning, they were just muscled enough to have definition yet still seem feminine. And her calves. Utter things of beauty. Her hips were perfect. Not as flared as they could be, he'd need to think on how he could fix that, but his hand fit over them perfectly despite that and he could thumb circles into her pelvis while kneading her ass. And what an ass she had. He couldn't wait until she filled out some, he was going to have such fun pounding the hell out of it.

Her chest was way too flat, but she was only eleven. There were a lot of ways to remedy that given some time. He'd already talked to Doc about some drugs to give her and if that didn’t work there were always implants. Nothing too big, of course, his girl wasn't going to grow up to look like some kind of porn star, but it would be nice if eventually they were big enough to cup with his hand. Her nipples, at least, were perfect. Utterly adorable little nubs that perked up so much when he played with them.

Eventually he had to move though. There was things to do and lunch to make and he couldn't spend every second of every day with his adorable little angel, could he? "I'm afraid I have to leave you alone for a little while, sweetheart," he said, slipping out from under her and off the bed. "I'll be back as soon as I can though and I'll bring some lunch with me."

He stood there for a moment and looked down at her, drinking in the way she was lying there with her thighs quivering from the strain, her knees and head pushed into the mattress while her back arched, thrusting her bandaged groin slightly into the air. When she stayed in that position there was no strain on that pretty little noose. If she relaxed at all though, it would tighten up and start to choke her. Not dangerously so. Unless she began to completely thrash about and tried to do a sit-up or something she should be fine while he went about his business for a few hours.

"Lunch?" he prodded, wanting a response from her. "Will you eat if I bring you something or am I going to have to pour it down your throat again?"

Her eyes got really wide at that and she quickly said, "No! I. I'll eat my lunch."

How quickly she forgot herself. Reaching down, he grabbed one of her nipples and twisted it, pulling hard. "Manners, Mary. I offered to make you lunch. Where are your manners?"

The high-pitched squeak she made was followed by a quick, "Damn it! What was that for?"

Well, that kind of attitude was just unacceptable. He slapped her with his free hand, right across her face. "You will watch you language when under my roof, Mary. And if you ever take that tone with me again, you will regret it. Do you understand me?"

"Sh-" she began before biting off what she was going to say when he raised his hand to slap her again. "Yes."

"Address me properly." He tapped the red mark on her cheek while giving her nipple another twist. "Yes, daddy. Or sir, that'll be acceptable as well. Whichever you prefer. But I demand you show me the proper respect."

"Yes, sir!" Tears were streaming from her eyes now, but there was still so much fire in them. Capitulating on this one thing by no means meant she was giving in completely.

"Good. Now about that lunch offer I made earlier. You want to try answering it again?"

Jaw still clenched she managed an almost polite, "I'd like lunch, thank you."

"Thank you, what?"

"Thank you, sir," she corrected herself before he could punish her, her voice barely above a whisper.

Satisfied, he gave her nipple one last twist, flicked it with his thumbnail and let go. "I'll go get started on making us some food then." He gave her a kiss on her lips, which seemed to startle her for some reason, before heading on his way, carefully locking the door behind him.

It was two hours before Samuel could return to the root cellar to check on his darling girl. He'd made her favorite and he couldn't wait to feed it to her. Pulling open the door, it was only quick reflexes that prevented him from getting a metal bar to the head.

"What the hell!" he yelled, dropping the tray and snatching the bar on the downward swing.

Somehow, Mary had managed to get herself free. She was standing there, swaying on her feet, using one bar for balance and support as she tried to tug the other out of his hand, probably fully intending to try to hit him again.

"You little bitch." He yanked on the bar, pulling her forward and grabbing her by the throat. "You ungrateful, undeserving, self centered bitch. How dare you raise a hand to me after all I've done for you!" Feet kicking uselessly in the air, he shook her with each word as he yelled, "You. Are. Mine. And you are never leaving me."

He should have fucking realized simply knotting her wrists to the bar wasn't going to be enough. She'd played him. She'd fucking played him and he'd fallen for it, hook, line and sinker. Well, the kid gloves were off now. He wasn't going to just break her spirit, he was going to destroy it.

Stalking over to the bed, he threw her on it. She landed on her stomach, positioned so that while her head and chest on the mattress, her ass and legs hung over the side. With one hand wrapped around her neck he pushed her face into the bedding, cutting off her ability to breathe, as unzipped his pants with his other. Kicking her legs apart he pressed his erection against her perky, perfect ass.

"I ought to fuck you right here and now. No prep. No lube. No nothing. Just me and my dick and you and your tight little hole. Probably tear you up good." He let her struggle, let her picture what he was threatening as he rubbed against her and stroked her ass. He kept it up, even fingered her hole a little (and what a hole it was; he couldn't wait until he really could fuck her but he wouldn't do it until she was older and he'd stretched her out some, he couldn't risk the infection she'd get otherwise) until her struggles lessened.

"I should do that," he explained as he tucked himself back in and zipped up. "But I won't. I'm going to be nice and give you another chance to learn your lesson." Raising her head for a moment, he let her take a few gulps of air. "What do you say to that, Mary?" When she didn't speak he pressed her face back down and spanked her hard, leaving a gorgeous, bright red handprint on her butt. "We're going to try that again. I'm going to lift you up and let you take a breath and then you are going thank me for giving you this chance. If you show me you're incapable of learning I have no reason not to fuck you this minute and then snap that pretty little neck of yours."

He smacked her again, this time on the back of her thighs and then let her up. She coughed and took a ragged breath. "Th-thank you, sir."

She remembered! That was something, at least. It meant she was capable of taking his lessons to heart. "Thank you for what?"

"For giving me a chance to learn my lesson." Her voice was soft and ragged but still had a bit of steel to it.

He laughed at that. "Well, you're welcome, sweetheart. But, I have to say, unlike school, I don't think you're going to like how I'm going to teach you."

"Didn't think I would," she muttered, half to herself before quickly tacking on a semi-respectable, "Sir."

Well, she was right about that. He let go of her neck and let her lie on her own for a moment while he reached under the bed to dragged out what he'd stored under it. "Now this," he said as he flipped her onto her back and sat her up so she could see, "Is your new home."

Her eyes got wide. "It's... a box."

"Oh, it's more than a box." He flung open the lid and pushed her forward so she could see inside. The box was actually thick wooden boards that were connected by hinges forming a rectangular cover around a cage. A small cage, less than a third the size of the bed. The cage had straps and a headrest. Reaching in, he pulled out the toys he had stored inside. "Now, this is a straightjacket. I'll use it to secure your torso properly. These cuffs will go on your ankles and thighs." He held them up so she could see them properly. "And I think you remember this fun little item." It took all he had not to grin when he dangled a slightly altered version of the funnel gag in her face.

"No. Please, no."

"Should have thought about that before you tried to hit me, Mary. Besides, you'll need it. How else am I supposed to feed and water you while you're learning how to be a good girl?"

"What. What do you mean?"

"Like I said, Mary. This is going to be your new home. This box. Until you learn how to behave."

"But..."

"Don't worry, you'll know when anything coming. I'll make sure you're awake before I pour anything down your throat. Wouldn't want you to choke to death by accident or anything like that, would we? There's a button- it'll give you a little shock so you'll be ready. See?" Touching the gag to her face he hit the switch and she jerked in surprise when it shocked her. "Pretty clever, huh?"

"Don't do this. I'll be good. I promise. Please, sir. I'll be good!"

"Oh, sure, you say that now. But how can I trust you, Mary? Besides, this is going to be as hard for me as it is for you. Do you know how difficult it'll be for me to have you here, so close, yet not able to see or touch you for days on end? I'll be practically torture for me!"

She opened her mouth to retort to that but he took that opportunity to shove the device in and he had it positioned practically before she realized. "I know what you're thinking. What about when you soil yourself? A man like me, I'm not going to let you sit in your own piss and shit, am I? Of course not. It's set up so I can hose you off when the inevitable happens without ever letting you out. And don't think that means you'll get to see or hear me when that happens," he explained as he forced her into the straight jacket. "That's what these are for." He produced earplugs and a blindfold. "Noise cancelling. Got top ratings in all the magazines. And see how thick this is? No light'll get through it."

The gag prevented her from talking but she was still managing high pitched, garbled complaints. "None of that," he said, tapping her on the nose before setting the blindfold in place. "It's annoying and you don't want to annoy me now, do you? Because as bad as you might think your new home will be, trust me when I say I can make it worse. Do you understand me?"

Mary nodded quickly and quit with the noises. She was probably breathing a bit too fast, but that was fine for now, in fact it was probably for the best since it'd leave her a little light headed and make her easier to settle into position. Samuel shoved the earplugs in and settled the headphones over them to make sure there was no chance of her shaking them out. Then it was as easy as picking her up and fitting her into the cage and attaching the various straps. One around her forehead and one that attached to either side of the gag, keeping her head pressed against the headrest so she was tilted up, keeping her throat open and ready for feedings. Next he secured the three straps around the straight jacket. The thigh cuffs were attached separately and then the ankle ones were attached to bottom wooden board. When it came time to clean her all he'd have to do was undo the hinges and pull that board away to straighten her legs and then direct the hose at her privates. The rest of her would get soaked as well, but the end result was she'd be clean.

He was whistling by the time he had attached the feeder and breathing hose to her gag and fed it through the bars and out of its hole in the outer wooden top. Deciding he needed to test it, he went and filled a glass from spout in the corner and then settled the outer funnel into place. She startled when he shocked her to let her know something would be coming, but didn't choke when he emptied the water into it. Perfect. It took just another moment to close the box up and slide the latches home.

He knelt down, stretching his arms over the box and pressed his cheek again the smooth wood. Brushing a hand over the rim of the funnel, he let her exhales tickle against his palm, but he was careful not to block it off. He might do that later, if she was slow in learning her lessons, but not yet. Not now. For now he just reveled in the idea his Mary was there, safe and sound, learning what she needed to learn so she could be the best daughter a man could ever hope to have.

He checked on his Mary often, brushing his hands over her enclosure and spent hours holding his face in front of the funnel, breathing in her expelled air, imagining he could taste her in it. It was important not to keep a schedule when feeding and watering her, he didn't want to risk her managing to have some sense of time based on his actions. In order to break her completely she had to be completely cut off from all stimulus that might orient her. Nothing to see but utter blackness, nothing to hear but her own internal noises, nothing to taste but the metal of the funnel, nothing to smell but her own stink. He couldn't do much about her sense of touch, she'd be able to feel the straps and cuffs and the scratchy cotton of the straight jacket but he could insure she had no way to judge the passage of time at all which, given a few days, would result in disorienting her further.

Samuel wasn't a monster though, he was careful to make sure she was adequately hydrated and received enough calories, a little more than actually necessary for a girl her age actually. Doc had mentioned she had been underweight, after all. Considering she'd seen her eating out of dumpsters sometimes, not only was that not a surprise, but he also suspected there was no way she wasn't at least slightly malnourished so he made sure to prepare her meals as nutritionally dense as he could. All in all, she was probably happy she couldn't taste the liver, spinach and lentil smoothies he poured down her throat.

On the third day he decided it was time to clean her and he unlatched the bottom board and yanked it away from the cage, pulling her legs along with it. Despite the gag, she managed a scream loud enough he could hear her clearly, meaning she wasn't that far gone inside her own head yet. Given enough time in the box she'd break though, he was sure of that. It was only when she was stretched out that he spotted the bandage. Damn it, in his anger he'd forgotten all about that. He didn't want to touch her, he wasn't supposed to touch her, but he had to check for infection.

Reaching through the bars he tugged the edge of the tape and then tore the sodden thing off, getting another scream out of his girl. There was a little redness and puffiness, but overall it still seemed to be healing okay. She sure was a sight though and stank to hell and back so he rinsed her off but, in deference to the stitches, didn't put the hose up to as powerful as he'd like.

Not surprisingly, she protested everything he did. Crying, trying to scream, yell, move, it was annoying. When he moved her legs he expected it and he couldn't fault her response to the bandage removal but she kept at it which was not acceptable and, frankly, was starting to grate. Easily solved though, he just grabbed a gag and shoved it into the funnel's opening. Problem solved, no more noise. Sure, the air in the box was probably pretty stuffy, but with the bottom open it wasn't like she was going to suffocate. It'd also help teach her a lesson. Her voice was his and he hadn't given her permission to use it.

As an extra punishment he made sure to keep the water cold and by the time he was done she was shivering, her flesh covered in goosebumps. Normally, he'd just shove her legs back up and reset the board in place since she'd warm up pretty quickly in the small box, but with the stitches to consider he broke with training (again) and wiped her dry first. Then he freed up her breathing tube again and set the board back in place.

Damn, he was tired. Caring for his girl was so much work. Maybe he'd wait a little longer before her next cleaning; it'd give her some time to appreciate her lessons and it'd be more likely she would appreciate his effort next time.

Not having his Mary around was hard. Sure, he could visit her whenever he wanted, but he couldn't see her. He couldn't touch her. He couldn't kiss her. He couldn't wrap his arms around her and press his-

No. This was for her own good. Mary needed him to be strong now. She needed him to be strict and firm and do his best to help mold her into the perfect, obedient girl she had the potential to be. What right did he have to deny her that?

So he bided his time and kept himself busy any way he could. He chopped enough wood to last for months. He drove into town for more supplies, not only the basics like food and candles but also some treats like books for his girl to enjoy come the time she earned the right to be able to read. He even went all the way into the big city twice to do a lot of errands like getting what he needed from Doc, but he also hit some stores to pick up plenty of silk and lacy things for Mary to wear. While he was there he also did some research to see if there was an alert that had been sent about "Dean" being missing.

There wasn't.

It took all his restraint to not go and give those so called foster parents a piece of his mind (and maybe even introduce them to his fists). How dare they have such a sweet angel like that under their roof and not appreciate what they had? Poor Mary. At least she had him now. He'd never fail to show that sweet child how much he cherished and loved her. A girl like that deserved to be adored, not ignored. He took to sleeping in the root cellar after that day, just to be that much closer to his darling Mary.

His girl was stubborn though. Yelling and crying when he every time he cleaned her. He tried everything he could think of. Neither ice cold water nor using a full pressured hose had any effect. It got so bad that he had to block off her air every time he had her box open just to keep her noises down to acceptable levels. Damn, his girl was a stubborn one. Nothing he couldn't fix though.

Since she didn't have any option but to swallow down whatever he poured down her throat after locking her back up after her latest whinefest he immediately returned to his cabin. He put the kettle on and while it was heating emptied the ice cube trays into a plastic bag and smashed them with the meat tenderizer until they were mostly broken up and dumped them into a thermos before topping it up with cold water. Grabbing a second thermos he filled it with the boiling water, added a tea bag and some sugar and then headed back to Mary.

Already cold and wet, add in a stomach overly full of ice and water with nothing to distract her from the resulting cramps? That ought to get her hard shell cracking. Especially if he waited until she got used to it and then followed up with hot tea. Her body wouldn't know what to do with itself. Hot then cold then hot again until her stomach was full and her bladder bursting, maybe plugging her air at random intervals?

No one would be strong enough to keep fighting against something like that. Not even her.

All in all it took until the fifth cleaning to get no conscious response from her whatsoever. He didn't even need to block her air or anything, other than the autonomic reaction of goosebumps appearing on her legs she gave no sign that she was even remotely aware he'd opened her box or was spraying her down. Excellent. He didn't trust it, not immediately, Mary was a clever one, there was the possibility she could be faking, but after locking her feet back in place he fetched a glass of water carefully opened the top up before shocking her in preparation for a typical feeding or watering and happily noted that while she didn't choke on the water, she gave no sign that she was cognizant of it being poured down her throat.

Perfect.

Before getting her out though, he had things to prepare. She'd need a bath, maybe two. He also should stock the kitchen with things that would be easy on her stomach to get her used to solids again. The bed linens had to be changed. His girl deserved fresh sheets; and while in the bedroom he'd have to make sure to check on the slats of the head and foot boards, they were wrought iron so they ought to hold if she fought her restraints, but it couldn't hurt to check. He expected she'd earn various aspects of her freedom pretty quickly, but until then it was his job to keep her safe.

It wasn't long before he was returning to the root cellar with a big, fluffy towel to wrap Mary in as he carried her to the cabin. The poor thing, her legs and arms just flopped around like wet noodles when he undid the restraints and her mouth just hung open even after he'd removed the gag. He kept the blindfold and earplugs on her for now, it would be cruel to overwhelm Mary with too many changes at once, wouldn't it? Leaving the box and it's contents (he'd disinfect the funnel gag and cage later but burn everything else, previous experience had taught him the smell would never get out completely and it wasn't that hard to buy or rebuild everything else for when he’d need it again) behind, he brought his dear sweet girl into the cabin they'd share until she'd recuperated a little, maybe even longer if she was ready.

For her first bath, he filled the tub only partway, planning on keeping her head above water with the aide of a small, waterproof pillow. However, when he lay her down her arms stayed crossed over her chest and her legs bent. Maybe he had left her too long in the box? Well, first things first, get her clean. Then he'd see to relaxing her muscles and joints.

Getting a good lather on the washcloth, Samuel started with her neck, gently scrubbing away the dried sweat and drool, working his way down her delicate collarbone and then each arm, paying careful attention to clean every spot well. He spent a long time on her hands and her long, beautiful fingers. He'd need to retouch her nail polish, it had all but flaked off. After rinsing the cloth and adding a bit more soap, he focused on her nipples, swirling his thumb over them, tweaking them, kneading them, imagining what the swell of her breasts would feel like in his hand. Eventually he had to move on to her stomach, as flat and beautiful as it was and then her hips.

She was still unresponsive, in her dark, quiet cocoon, but looked maybe a bit more relaxed so he didn't change the water quite yet, instead moving to her tiny, perfect toes and carefully cleaned between each and every one before moving up to her ankles, then knees and then thighs, straightening her legs slightly as he went. Lastly, he focused on her groin. The stitches had dissolved leaving a bit of redness and a scar, but it was almost as perfect as she was. Doc did good work. Mary twitched, ever so slightly, when he stroked it, her breath hitching. Look at that, she already had come to appreciate what he'd done to her body, just like he knew she would.

The water was cool by the time he finished bathing her so he emptied it and began to fill it again, adding in some of that lavender oil she loved so much. He shucked off his own clothing, scooped her up, removed the pillow and climbed in, settling her between his legs, lying against him. Gently he wrapped his legs around hers and slowly applied pressure, forcing them to straighten. It would take a stronger man than himself to not be affected by the breathy moan she gave as a result.

Since the bathroom was lit with only a few candles, and the room quiet other than the occasional sound of the water, he removed her earplugs and blindfold, finally able to see her face for the first time in what felt like forever. She was so beautiful, it almost hurt to look at her. Grabbing a new washcloth he began gently, ever so gently, to clean her face, smiling to himself as she leaned into his touch. Once she was clean he just held her, reveling in the skin-on-skin contact. By tilting her head to the side as he held her the pressure on her chin caused her mouth to close and he used his right hand to massage her cheeks and jaw. With his left he gently pushed her arms down and tucked them along either side of her body, under his thighs. Then he let his hand roam. Massaging in places, stroking in others. Petting. Fondling.

His angel, so sensitive, so pure, he wanted to hold her tight and never let her go. For the moment he had to settle with simply having her here, in his arms, but she would be his forever. She was destined to be his and his alone from the first moment he saw her; he was certain she knew that now. And if not, well, he'd just sure to make her understand where she belonged. With him. She was never going to be anywhere else. He'd see to that.

Unfortunately, of course, eventually they had to get out of the bathtub. But that was okay, beds were nice too. By the time he'd dried the two of them off she was somewhat more alert, eyes seeming to actually focus on him.

"There you are, Mary." Despite how careful he was to keep his voice low, she still flinched slight noise.

"Everything's still a little overwhelming, isn't it?" he asked. It was important, at this stage, to get her accustomed to his voice first and foremost. She was the center of his world, it was only fair he was the center of hers as well.

She didn't respond, but that was okay. Having already pulled down the sheets and blankets, he was able to simply lay her down on the bed and then crawl in next to her and cover them both up right away. She'd be more susceptible to colds and drafts for the time being and he didn't want her to become ill. Besides, he could get her used to his touch under blankets just as well as on top of them.

On his side with his head propped up on one arm so he could see her better, he began exploring her body as he talked to her, filling the air with nonsense chatter about how much fun they'd have when she was ready and all the things she'd have to look forward to in the years to come. Unlike in the tub, she was no longer just a passive body to fondle. Her movements and responses were slight, but started to grow the longer he talked and the more he touched.

After a while, once the candles started to burn low he began asking more direct questions. "It's much nicer here than in that box, isn't it, Mary?" When she blinked at his question, but didn't answer he put his hand under her jaw and gently grabbed it, shutting her mouth (it'd take a few days for her to get used to being able to close it, he might as well help her on that front) and forcing her to nod. "See, I thought you would like it in here with me. I bet you wish you could stay here forever. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Mary?" Again, he made her nod. She was his, he knew she'd always agree with whatever he asked; all he had to do was reinforce the idea she would, encourage her to accept who she was and what her life was now.

"It's so loud and dirty in the city, not like here. It's so quiet here. Do you like the quiet, Mary?" Another forced nod. She was definitely watching him now though, and her eyes had a clarity that had been missing since he'd removed the blindfold. "And I'll make you all your favorite foods. Remember how much you love my pancakes, Mary?" Nod. "My stew?" Nod. "You love everything I cook for you, right, Mary?" Nod. Except... that time the nod only needed a little encouragement on his part. "Just like you love everything I've done for you, don't you, Mary?" Nod. "Just like you'd love to stay here forever, right, Mary?" She was practically nodding by herself now. "I bet you want to be a good girl, don't you, Mary?" Yep, while he was keeping his hand on her chin, he didn't have to do anything, she nodded all on her own. "I bet you can't wait to have me help you be a good girl, right, Mary?" He moved his hand slightly, so he was stroking her cheek, but she still nodded in response to his question. "You'll love it here, won't you, Mary?" Her nod was firmer, a definite and purposeful movement."In fact, you already love it here, don't you, Mary?" Another nod, agreeing with him, strong and steadfastly. "That's my girl. Can I kiss you now, Mary?"

When she nodded he grabbed her face and tilted it towards him as he bent down and kissed her, long and hard. He kept himself in check though. No tongue, no biting her lips. There would be plenty of time for that. Years, in fact.

He was polite about it, of course. When he pulled away he offered a sincere, "Thank you, Mary. thank you for giving me permission. I know it's not necessary, and I'm not always going to ask since every bit of you is mine, but you've had a bit of a rough time of late and I didn't want to take you by surprise. You appreciate my thoughtfulness about this, don't you, Mary?"

She looked a bit startled, maybe even a little scared, but she still nodded.

"Now, I'd like to hear your beautiful voice. Can you say something, Mary? I know," he decided to suggest when her brows rippled a little, her confusion obvious. He understood, after forced silence for so long, words could be hard. "Why don't you thank me? Can you say thank you, Mary? Thank you. You can do it." When she still didn't say anything he started to get angry. "I do so much for you, Mary. You need to appreciate it. Say 'thank you,' Mary. You don't want to make me regret all my hard work. Say thank you!"

He was practically shouting by then and she flinched at the noise, before opening her mouth and licking those gorgeous, red lips of hers. "T-t-tha-tha-than-k y-you." It was barely over a whisper, and rather horse and unattractive sounding, but he supposed it would do.

"Well, you're very welcome, Mary. And just this once I'll forgive you for not addressing me properly. I'll even let you try again. Remember, you're supposed to call me daddy. Or sir. Sir or daddy, either will do. Can you thank me again? Correctly this time? I don't want to have to punish you."

Was she blinking back tears? No, that couldn't be right. She must just be glad he was giving her the opportunity to correct her mistake. "Th-thank you, sir."

"That's my good girl," he said proudly. His Mary was such a good girl. His girl was on her way to being the most perfect, most amazing daughter in the world.

Bending over to give Mary a butterfly kiss on her forehead brought him closer to her hair. Her short, awful, boy-like hair. Well, time to do something about that then. "We need to fix this," he announced as he ran his fingers along her scalp before grabbing a handful of hair and tugging it firmly.

She gasped, her head jerking with his pull. "M-my hair? Sir?"

Sir. Yes, he did like the sound of that. "It's too short. What ever possessed you to cut your hair so damn short?" Throwing off their blankets he climbed over her and off the bed, yanking her along with him by the hair. "Do you have no respect for yourself? Do you think you're some common whore?"

"What? No! I'm sorry! Ow! I'm sorry!" Her legs, still weak from her recent confinement, couldn't hold her and she sagged and stumbled, and as a result she was basically dragged to the dresser/vanity he'd built for Mary all those years ago.

She collapsed into the chair and would have slid straight off the side of it if his reflexes weren't as quick as they were. Whoops. He had meant to spend a day or two working on her muscle development while they were still in bed but he'd just gotten so damn angry at her. Oh well. It was her own fault, no sane man could stand to look at a girl for long when their hair was as terrible as hers. It took a few minutes, but with a little repositioning he was able to get her to stay mostly sitting up without him having to steady her.

He didn't bother lifting up the mirror; she wouldn't need it. The state she was in there was no way she'd manage the wig on her own. He'd just have to do it for her. "Luckily," he told her, "I can fix that for you and hide that shameful mess on the top of your head. It's hard for a girl to be beautiful if they have such ugly hair and you want to be beautiful for me, don't you, Mary?"

In her lap, her fingers were twitching, like she was trying to lift them and grab something, but even though it didn't seem like she was paying any attention to him but she nodded in response to his question before she seemed to startle and looked up at him. "Wait, no. I. I didn't."

Before she could stutter out whatever she was going to say he reached into the box on the floor and pulled out the wig he'd stored in there. "You're as excited as I am, I can tell." Putting on a wig wasn't as easy as just plopping it on a head, he'd read up on it, even watched a video or two, but he thought he managed it pretty well. "There. Perfect. Well, almost perfect. But, it'll do for now."

"I don't-" she began, but he interrupted her and finished her sentence for her.

"Want to go back in the box?" The smile he gave her was overly bright and probably (hopefully) a bit suggestive and cruel. "And you don't know how to tell me how much you love the wig and how you can't wait until your hair grows out even though it'll mean you won't need it anymore?"

Paling, she gulped noticeably. "I. I'm sure it looks great."

"It does. And..." he prompts

"Thank you for the wig, sir?"

"You're very welcome, Mary." Glancing at the window he realized how late it had gotten. "So, how are you doing? Are you hungry? I bet you're hungry."

"Yes, sir."

"All right then, I'm going to go into the kitchen to throw together some food." Purposely clapping her own the shoulder a little too hard when he walked past, causing her to begin to slip of the chair despite her best efforts to hold herself up. "Maybe we should get you back into bed for now. You still need to get your strength back." Without waiting any further, he scooped her into his arms and carried her over to the bed and propped her up on the pillows. "Now, are you going to stay right there all on your own or am I going to have to restrain you? Because your legs are weak as jelly now and if you try to get out of that bed on your own there’s a good chance you’ll fall and wind up hurt and that's not even considering the punishment you'll force me to give you."

"No, I'll be good!"

"I knew I could count on you."

Samuel threw together a quick dinner for himself before cracking open a can of soup to eat for Mary. He was careful not to rush when eating though, wanting to see if Mary would listen and stay in their bed or if he'd have to punish her.

When he unlocked the door and pushed it open, he couldn't decide if it was a good or a bad thing she was laying exactly as he left her. It wasn't that he _liked_ disciplining his girl, but she was so very beautiful when she cried. Oh well, that didn't matter he could use her compliance as an opportunity to start the next phase of ensuring Mary was his and his alone- make her question her own experiences and become reliant on his word for everything that happened around her.

"Have a nice nap?" he asked, keeping his tone soft, hopefully sounding concerned. "You slept a long time, I've already had to reheat the soup twice."

"Nap? I didn't fall asleep. You were only gone maybe twenty minutes." Huh. She was close, he'd actually been gone closer to twenty-five minutes, but that was neither here nor there. he needed to tear the girl down before building her back up.

As a result, instead of sitting next to her he remained standing, a towering, hopefully intimidating presence, as he looked down at her and frowned. "I do not approve of you back talking me, Mary."

"I wasn't. I just. I didn't think you were gone that long."

He let his tone go icy. "Gone that long, what?"

"Gone that long, sir?" So eager to please, his little Mary.

"Well I was. Your stay in the box must have skewed your sense of time. Now, did you want to eat this or not?"

"Yes, please." She reached a shaky hand toward the tray.

"It doesn't look like that'd be a good idea," he said, ignoring her hand and sitting on the edge of the bed. "You're liable to spill it and you'll just wind up burning yourself. It'll be better if I feed you, won't it, Mary?"

She didn't look too thrilled at the idea but it'd been half a day since she'd eaten anything so she had to be hungry and it wasn't too surprising when she let her hand drop to her lap and nodded.

Since she was still naked there wasn't anything for him to tuck the napkin into, so he just lay it over her pretty, but sadly flat, chest. "Open up, sweetheart."

Spoonful by spoonful he fed her, one at a time, as slowly as he could drag it out without making it seem obvious. "There we go. It's good, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

By the time the bowl was finally empty and she'd finished her roll and glass of milk (along with the slight dose of sedatives he'd dissolved in it) she was blinking sleepily at him. "Aww, look at my poor girl. You're all tuckered out. It is getting pretty late, why don't I bring this to the kitchen and then we'll get ready for bed. Does that sound good to you, Mary?"

She was tired all right, he wasn't sure if it was a result of that or if his conditioning her to respond to both his questions and her name was starting to pay off, but she nodded almost immediately.

"I'll be back before you know it," he said, grabbing the napkin and taking the opportunity to run his fingers over her nipples as he did so.

He didn't bother to do more than dump the dishes in the kitchen, between general exhaustion and the drugs, she'd probably sleep at least ten if not twelve hours so he'd have plenty of time to take care of them in the morning. "All right!" He clapped his hands loudly as he reentered the room. "Let's get you ready for the night."

"Ready? Am I sleeping somewhere else?"

"No, of course not! You're in here with me." Like he'd let his girl sleep anywhere but in his bed when she was behaving enough to be in the cabin.

When he went to the dresser she seemed to perk up a little. "So you're getting me pajamas? I don't have to be naked anymore?"

She sounded so stupidly hopeful, it would have been hilarious if it weren't so sad. He decided to purposely misunderstand her question. "Oh, honey, no. Don't be ashamed of your body. I know you must be embarrassed about how little your breasts have developed, but don't worry, you're young yet and there's plenty of time to do what we can to get them to come in properly." Before she could parse what he was suggesting and react to it (which was unfortunate, he suspected her righteous indignation would have been amazing and he would have had fun punishing her for it) he pulled out what he'd been searching for. Four nice thick cuffs and two lengths of chain.

"Once a girl goes to bed, she stays in bed. And these are to ensure you do. Now, of course, at the moment, you're not in any kind of shape to go wandering at night, but once you're stronger you might get the urge and that'd be dangerous. The woods around here are treacherous and hard to navigate on foot even in the daytime. At night? Between the bears and wolves and everything, you'd be lucky to survive 'til morning" he explained matter-of-factly, "I'm just keeping your best interest in mind here, Mary."

Not surprisingly, she didn't look like she believed him, but she smartly kept her mouth shut about it. Speaking of mouths... "Do you think you'll need a gag tonight? Or a muzzle? Considering how sore your jaw probably is the muzzle would probably be more comfortable."

"A muzzle?"

"To help you keep you from saying anything you'll regret. I could have sworn we've already had a discussion today about keeping a civil tongue in your head and how I do not accept back talk under my roof."

"No muzzle. I, I won't need one. Sir. Or a gag. Please." As tired as she was, the words tumbled out of her mouth. It was adorable.

"Well, if you're certain, Mary. The offer's there though. Remember, you speak out of turn and I will be forced to punish you and neither of us want that." With more than a bit of reluctance, he left both the gag and muzzle in the drawer and headed to the bed with the other items. Despite the drugs and exhaustion, she stiffened when he wrapped a hand around her calf. "Now don't you worry, these won't hurt you, they're for your protection, remember?" Stroking her leg gently to get her to relax he kissed her ankle before wrapping the first cuff around it and then repeated the action with her other foot before attaching the chain to the cuff on her right ankle, running it down and through the slat in the footboard and back to her left. Moving to the head of the bed he did the same with her wrists, leaving enough slack that she could even keep her arms bent if she wanted to. "There, how's that? Good? Unless you need me to shorten the chain?"

"No! No, it's fine. Thank you, sir."

What a polite girl he had. Reaching down, he grabbed her chin and lifted her up for a kiss. Then he shucked off his clothes, blew out the candles, and slipped into bed beside her, pulling the blankets up and wrapping his arms around her. As much as he wanted to play with his girl, he knew it would be better if he got some rest. He and Mary were going to have a big day tomorrow.


	2. Training Mary

Mary was still out cold when Samuel woke up so he took the opportunity to play around with his little girl, stretching her out on her back and straddling her. She was so beautifully passive underneath him, a canvas just begging to bear his marks. Nipping and biting her neck, he left a trail of beautiful blossoms before working his way down to her nipples. Gorgeous little nubs, so perky, so responsive. He wanted her awake the first time they truly made love so he didn't spend the time to work her open so he could penetrate her, that would come in time, instead he took advantage of her perfect thighs. So silky. So smooth. Rubbing his dick between them while sucking her tits, his fingers digging into her hips - it was a close to heaven since he'd been in years.

Since his poor Mary died. Seeing her, on the floor, all that blood....

He couldn't lose another girl like that. Not again. And he wouldn't. Not with this Mary. She was the best one yet. Young. Moldable. Ready to be his. Unlike those other pale attempts he'd spent years trying and failing to perfect. And even better, he didn't have to be careful since there was no womb to worry about filling. Once she was old enough, big enough, he could fuck her as much as he liked.

The mere thought made him horny as hell and he came far too soon. His ravished beauty, scratched, bruised and covered in sweat and semen. After showering and getting dressed he took the time to fix her hair, that was easy enough since all it took was removing the wig, restyling it and putting it back. And cleaning her up some with a warm washcloth only took a few minutes as well. There wasn't much he could do about the rest, but leaving it would only be to his benefit. With no mirrors all she had to rely on were her own eyes for her appearance and it was to his benefit if she learned not to trust herself.

He made himself some breakfast and then spent the rest of the morning doing things around the cabin, both inside like doing some food prep, as well as outside where he worked on the garden some and strung tripwires and set traps in various places in the brush and on the road. He checked on his girl often and it was late morning before she showed signs of stirring. Making himself some coffee he poured himself a mug and settled down in the chair to watch his girl as he slowly brought herself to wakefulness.

"Good afternoon, darling. You must have been all tuckered out, you slept nearly all day. Feeling better, Mary?"

She nodded before realizing what he said. "Afternoon? It's afternoon already?"

"Yep." Well, no, it wasn't, but the room's only window was just a slit and didn't get a lot of direct sun so there was no way to accurately tell time by how much light it was letting in so he could tell her whatever he wanted and there was no way for her to prove him wrong. "Not that I approve of you lazing about all day but you looked so tired, you poor thing, I just let you sleep. Wasn't that nice of me?"

"Yes," she said uncertainly, not quite as a question but not really as a statement either. "Are you going to unlock me now so I can get out of bed?"

Samuel frowned. "You're skirting getting punished for using that tone with me, Mary. Not to mention not being polite. I had plans for the day but instead I let you rest, and this is how you thank me? By giving me attitude?"

"No! I'm sorry. Thank you for letting me sleep in. I'd like. If you could. Sir. Let me out of bed? I'm sorry if I was rude. Please don't put me in that box again!"

"There's lots of ways to punish you other than the box, silly girl, but I do appreciate you making the attempt, at least, to keep a civil tongue. I think we can get away with only five swats as a result of your behavior."

"Five..."

"We can't paddle your ass with you chained like this so I guess your groin will have to do. Now I want you to understand, it's going to be your responsibility to keep count for me. After each hit I expect you to tell me what number it was and thank me. I _will_ keep going until you've counted to five and I've gotten five proper thank yous as a result. Do you understand?" Seeming to realize he was serious, she bit her lip and nodded. "You can shut your eyes if you want; I do realize this isn't going to be pleasant, but unfortunately it's necessary."

Once she'd screwed her eyes closed he pulled back the blanket. "Spread your legs apart a little more, darling. It'll hurt less if I don't have to do it for you." Slower than he'd like, she straightened her legs, separating them as much as possible while still attached to the foot board by the chain. "Good girl." Because he was feeling generous, and due to the fact her transgression was fairly minor, he didn't grab a paddle or anything, but rather simply smacked her across the groin with the palm of his hand.

She jumped a little at the pain and began to curse but caught herself before she could do more than get the first letter out. "Sh-ah.. One! Ah. Thank you!"

"Thank you, what, Mary? Do I need to double your punishment?"

"No, sir! Thank you, sir!"

Grinning, he smacked her again, this time a little harder.

"Two! Thank you, sir," she announced after a short cry of pain.

By the time they got to five, tears were starting to leak out of the corners of her eyes and her entire pelvis area was bright red. Disciplining his girl was so much fun. "There. All done. Would you like an ice pack for the pain or do you want to get up to start working on getting your strength back?"

Sniffling and dewy eyed she said, "I'd like to get up now please, sir."

"How can I say no when my girl is being so polite?" Samuel grinned and patted her leg just above the knee. I'll take them off your ankles first and then we'll do some exercises. How does that sound?"

She looked like she might want to protest, probably wanting her arms freed as well, but she was smart enough, or hurting enough, just to go with it. "Thank you, sir."

Repeating his actions from when he put them on he undid the chair and then removed the cuffs one at a time and kissing each ankle as he bared them. Leaving them at the foot of the bed he started with her left foot, taking it in his hand and pushed it up towards her body, bending the knee and stretching the calf. She hissed a little but lay pliantly while he worked her legs, first one then the other. Massaging here, moving there, back and forth again and again until he'd actually worked up a little bit of a sweat.

"You're doing great, Mary. I think it's time for a break though, maybe have a little water? How does that sound?"

"Water would be nice. Thank you, sir."

Kissing the inside of her thigh, he put her leg down and gave it one last pat before moving off the bed. "Back in a minute," he explained, grabbing his mug and heading to the kitchen. Once there he made himself a new pot of coffee and drank it, making sure to waste close to an hour before he returned to his girl.

"Got that water for you, Mary," he said, rushing in, like he had only been gone as long as it had taken to fill the glass. "I bet you're thirsty."

Her brows furrowed, some kind of combination of annoyance and confusion but she seemed eager enough for the water and unwilling to make an issue of the perceived time difference. Which was smart- she could probably guess how he'd react to that. "I am, thank you, sir."

"Well, let's get your hands free, do some exercises and then we can sit you up and you can drink your water."

Once freed, he moved her arms to and fro, back and forth, straightening and bending like he did her legs for about ten minutes before kissing each wrist again. "Ready to sit up?" he asked, but didn't wait for an answer before he pulled her up with a little more force than necessary so she pitched forward and into him.

Aren't you the sweetest thing?" He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, ignoring the way she stiffened and hissed as he did so. She was likely to be a bit sore after his activities this morning and the discipline she'd earned earlier. "As much as I'd love to cuddle I did promise you some water and after you drink that we should start thinking about food since you haven't eaten all day. Still supporting her, he leaned over and grabbed the glass. "You still seem a bit shaky, it'd probably be better if you let me do this for you," he suggested as he held the it up to her lips, tipping the water in when she opened her mouth to protest.

Unprepared, she sputtered and choked instead of swallowing it down, just as he'd expected she would. Loudly sighing, he shook his head. "Such a messy, messy girl. What am I supposed to do with you? I guess it's a good thing it's just water, but still, only last night you complained about being naked. How am I supposed to trust you with clothing if you can't even drink a little water without spilling it all over yourself?"

"I'm sorry, it wasn't my fault!"

He let his voice grow cold. "Are you trying to suggest _your_ inability to do something as simple as drink from a glass is somehow _my_ fault?"

"No! No, of course not. Sir! Of course not, sir."

"I thought not." He waited until she'd stopped coughing and then added. "If I give you more, do you think you can drink without making a mess this time?"

"I. I'll try, sir."

Lifting the glass to her lips once more he tilted it more slowly this time, letting her sip as she wished and before long, the glass was empty. "Good girl," he said, kissing her on the top of her head. Reaching over, he put the empty glass on the dresser and stood up. "Okay, time to get you on your feet. Ready, Mary?"

She nodded as he took her legs and pushed them to the side of the bed so she was sitting properly with her feet on the floor and then pulled her to her feet. He was almost disappointed when she stayed standing without needing further help other than his hands on her arms. He did notice, however, that she was looking down. What was she...

"I don't remember having these bruises and cuts," she muttered, half to herself.

Oh. Right. He probably shouldn't have been so rough with her earlier, but that was water under the bridge. Besides, the more chances to keep her confused, the better. "What cuts and bruises?"

Since he didn't release her, she was unable to do more than gesture at her hips and the beautiful finger marks he'd left there. "Those. How did I-"

"Mary? What are you talking about? Are you all right?"

That got her attention. "What? I'm fine. I just don't understand how I got hurt. You didn't hit me there and it's not from when you had whatever creepy doctor you had mutilate-"

"Mary!" Being confused was one thing (and to be encouraged) but he _fixed_ her. Mutilate? He would _never_! "I don't know what you're seeing, but you have no marks on you other than a little redness from when you forced me to have to punish you. Now, are you suggesting that you need further disciplining?"

Her head shot up. "No! No, sir. I'm fine."

"Okay then, if you're sure." He took a step backwards and then another. Since he was still holding her arms, she had no option but to to walk along with him. "Now let's make a few orbits of the room before I make us some dinner. Doesn't that sound nice, Mary?"

"Yes, sir," she said, practically automatically. "Thank you, sir."

After forcing her to walk for about five minutes he led her to the chair. "While I go make dinner, you're going to work on your posture. If you want to grow up to be a proper woman you can't be slouching about. It's unseemly."

"But don't _want_ -" she began before he grabbed her chin, shutting her mouth and forcing her to be silent. She tried to recoil from his touch, but with her back to the chair there was nowhere to go.

"Mary, Mary, Mary." Callously, slowly, he spread his hand out and pinched her nose shut, cutting off her air. "Here I am, trying so hard to instill proper upbringing and manners in you and what do I get? Nothing but back talk and contempt from you. How many times a day are you going to force me to punish you? Would you rather I just give up and take you back to the root cellar right now?" With his other hand he pushed her legs apart and grabbed her groin, running his fingers along her perineum before squeezing the area tightly. "I could tie you up there and have my fun and eventually, when I got tired of you, all I'd have to do was snap your neck and bury you out back. It'd be a lot easier than going through all this effort in hopes you're actually capable of following some simple directions and doing the few, basic tasks that I ask you to do. Is that what you want, Mary?"

Eyes wide, she vehemently shook her head.

"Well then." He released her and she sagged in the chair, taking big, gasping breaths. "Like I said, you'll be working on your posture and I've just the thing to help you." He rummaged around in the dresser for a moment and pulled out two pieces of rope and a hollow dowel. "Now, I'm going to tie this rod to the back of the chair and then run the rope up through it and loop it around your neck in a noose. I'll leave you a little give; I think it's only fair we go easy on you tonight since we can't expect you to be perfect right off the bat. But don't worry, all you have to do is sit up straight and you'll be fine and it shouldn't take me more than half an hour to make dinner. Do you think you can do this for me, Mary?"

She looked so scared, which was just ridiculous. What would be so hard about sitting for a little while? Foolish girl. "I believe I asked you a question," he prompted as he knelt behind the chair and began securing the dowel.

"Yes, sir. I mean. I can do it, sir."

"That's my girl." Reaching around he ran a hand up her chest and stroked her nipples for a few minutes to show his appreciation before tying the noose and slipping it over her head and around her neck. "There we go. Now this isn't so bad, is it?"

"No, sir," she said softly.

Getting up, he eyed his work. What a mess, even with her neck being forced up against the dowel, her shoulders were still slumped. Once her breasts came in they'd be practically unnoticeable if she slouched like that. "Shoulders back, girl. Decent posture isn't just having your back straight, how can you be so bad at something this simple?"

Offering an immediate, "Sorry, sir," she made a pathetic attempt at sitting properly but still failed horribly.

Samuel sighed; the things he did for his girl. "Okay, this is on me. Obviously you're just not capable of getting this right on your own without a lot of help." He grabbed more ropes out. "Only whores sit with their knees spread like that. And your legs should be crossed at the ankle and angled to the side." It only took a second to lash her legs together, tying them at the knee and wrapping the rope around again and again as he worked down to her ankles which he dutifully crossed before positioning them properly by tying them to the left front chair leg. "Your hands should be folded and resting in your lap. Are you able to do that on your own or will you be needing me help you with that too?"

Her hands were clasped together and on her lap before he even finished asking the question. "I can do it, sir. But. Thank you. Sir."

Eyeing his work, he nodded to himself. Not bad. He could do without the tenseness in her frame, but her head was high, shoulders back, hands daintily folded in her lap and legs together, crossed, and tucked to the side. Almost ladylike. It looked like his Mary might be able to take at least some of his lessons to heart after all.

"Good girl," he said, bending down to kiss her forehead. "Now don't make me regret leaving your hands free. If I even _think_ you touched any of these ropes you will be punished. Do you understand me?"

It was almost comical to see how fast her face lost all its color. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Because it'd be a shame to break all these pretty little fingers of yours," he added, stroking her hands. "Doesn't mean I won't do it though, because if I have to I will, but I wouldn't enjoy you forcing me to do it to you." He lifted her chin so she was looking him in the eye. "I'm going to go start dinner. I'll be checking on you on and off while it's cooking and I expect to find you in this position, this _exact_ position, every time I do or there will be consequences."

"I understand, sir."

Nodding, he released her and headed to the kitchen. It actually was only coming up on noon, but he was hungry enough a full dinner would work for him and the more he did to keep Mary unable to trust herself and to rely solely on his interpretation of the world around her, the better.

While cooking he debated if he should check on her. He doubted that she was cowed enough that she hadn't at least considered trying to untie herself, but would the threat of what might happen if he caught her have be enough to ensure that she hadn't anything? Should he punish her either way? Maybe not break her fingers, broken bones took an annoying long time to heal, but dislocating her thumbs would be easy enough. Or maybe something that would leave a mark? He hadn't used any of his toys yet. Her ass would be gorgeous with some switch marks across it. Or would that be too much too soon? He blew out a frustrated breath. Raising a daughter was such difficult work.

Thought of whether or not to punish his sweet Mary flew out the window when he carried their dinner into the bedroom to find the dowel hadn't been secured to the chair tightly enough and it had somehow slipped, tightening the noose to the point it was restricting her air. Carefully putting the tray down on a dresser he walked around her chair, watching as she wheezed and strained, her fingers digging at the noose, trying to loosen it or perhaps remove it entirely.

"You moved your hands," he admonished, grabbing her wrists in his right hand while picking up the dowel in the other and tugging it completely free from the chair before tucking it under his arm and separating it from the noose. Without the extra weight pulling on it she'd have some of the pressure on her neck released. Not a lot, but enough she wasn't in immediate danger anymore. Probably.

"I said you moved your hands," he repeated while she coughed and panicked, her eyes tearing and pleading. "You moved your hands after you promised you wouldn't. Aren't you going to apologize to me for breaking your word?"

She didn't. She just kept coughing and wheezing and trying to pull her hands out of his grip.

"You are unbelievable. I'm going to have to go and get the funnel gag and then take this fine meal I went through all the effort of making for you and dump it in the blender just to get it down your throat. All because you were incapable of sitting like a proper lady and too stupid to even apologize for your failings."

 _That_ got through to her. It was almost funny how much she hated being fed through that gag. Eyes wide, she rasped out a rough, "I'm sorry! I couldn't breathe!"

Which... was a valid point. But still. "Do you really think I would leave you here to choke to death, Mary? That I would allow you to die in such a cold and impersonal manner?"

"No, sir?" She sounded fairly unsure about it, which was completely unfair. It wasn't as if she had any idea about that one who'd kept trying to escape who'd he'd forgotten about after tying her up outside in the snow or that slut who'd tried seducing him so he'd punished her by whoring her out to some friends who'd gotten to rough with her.

"Damn right I wouldn't do that." Sighing, he gave in a little. This early in her training, the rod slipping, the noose tightening... He supposed her lack of self control was understandable. Still deserving of punishment, but understandable.

"Do you know what you did wrong, Mary?"

"My hands were supposed to stay on my lap, sir." With all the coughing and choking she'd been doing her voice was soft and cracking and pretty painful to listen to. Poor thing.

"And did they stay on your lap, Mary?"

"No, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

"And what should we do about that little transgression?" He crosses his arms as he stood there, hoping the way he was looming over her was properly intimidating.

"Punish me, sir?"

"Yes, that is exactly how we should deal with that. But dinner is getting cold so let's eat first." He released her hands and loosened the noose- it had left quite the red mark, no wonder she'd panicked- but let it remain around her throat with the rope dangling down behind the back of the chair. "However, all things considered, I think we shouldn't risk you being tempted to move them again." It was easy enough to take the extra rope, run it around to the front of the chair to under her armpit to loop it around her wrists and tie it off. Now if she tried to lift her hands she'd choke herself. Huh. He should have done that in the first place. "Did I leave you too much give or should I tighten it, Mary?"

"It's fine, sir, you don't need to make it tighter. I won't move my hands again. Not until you give me permission."

"Good girl."

Samuel went back to the dresser and grabbed the tray. It looked like he'd be feeding Mary again. Luckily, he didn't mind. "We'll use this as a chance for another lesson. Women aren't pigs. They take small bites and chew each mouthful thoroughly before swallowing." He cut up the food, offering her one small morsel at a time in between eating his own meal. She seemed to like what he'd made, fried potatoes and sausages, well enough, or at least knew better than to do anything but open her mouth obligingly every time he held the fork her way.

"Thank you, sir," she offered after cleaning her plate and draining her glass. It was obliging of her to finish the milk without noticing that, just like always, he'd added a few things to the evaporated milk when watering down to make it drinkable. Just like he'd always said, a little benzos go a long way. Well, benzos and a touch of the hormone treatment Doc had suggested he start. Since she hadn't gone through puberty before losing her balls she'd probably develop pretty decently on her own, but a little added biological push would only help matters.

"You're welcome, Mary. Now you just stay right there like a good girl and I'll be right back."

"Yes, sir." Trussed up like she was, it wasn't like she had much choice, but wasn't the point. The point was she was trying to be a good little girl who followed orders.

Deciding to mess with her, he dumped the dishes in the sink and then immediately returned to the bedroom. "There's my perfect Mary. Sitting just like I left, despite how long I was gone."

Brow wrinkling with obvious confusion, she opened her mouth, probably about to say something about how long she thought he'd actually been gone when she, just as quickly, snapped it shut. She stopped herself from questioning him, she was learning. Didn't mean he wouldn't still punish her for earlier though.

"Sir?" she began, all tentative and cautious. "Could I. Could you. Sorry, sir, but I really need to use the bathroom. Sir."

"Need to pee, huh?" That wasn't all that unexpected, all things considered.

"Yes, sir."

"All right, let's get you out of that chair and over to the toilet." It would be interesting, he thought as he began untying her, to see how she dealt with the first time she was truly conscious and aware when emptying her bladder in a while. The plumbing was generally still the same, but the appearance had sure changed since the last time she'd had the opportunity.

As expected, she was a little wobbly once he pulled her to her feet but with just a little support she was able to make her way to the bathroom. She seemed a little surprised when he stayed in there with her though. "Sir?"

"You can't expect me to leave you alone in here, Mary, not with the way you keep breaking the rules. You haven't earned that right. Besides, I'm going to need to rub some cream into that mess you made of your neck if you don't want it to start to swell shut." Of course, if damage had been severe enough to cause it to swell it would have already happened, but she wouldn't know that and it'd give him an excuse to have his hands around her throat for something other than punishment.

Apparently accepting his reasoning, or at least smart enough not to argue with him about it, she walked over to the toilet and stood in front of it for a moment, her hand reaching toward her groin before stopping. He couldn't be certain from the angle he was watching her from, but he was pretty sure she'd started to cry.

"What are you doing? Only men stand in front of the toilet, Mary. Girls sit down to pee."

Head ducked, yeah, she was definitely hiding her tears, she turned and sat down on the toilet. It took a few minutes for anything to happen, probably due to her embarrassment of using the toilet in front of someone, but her bladder must have been bursting because it wasn't long before he heard the telltale tinkle of urine hitting porcelain. He reached over and plucked the toilet paper roll off the holder.

"Sir?" she asked, sitting there, avoiding looking at anything other than the empty place where the toilet paper should be.

"You'll have to tell me when you're done. After your actions today there's no way I can trust you enough to do anything properly, even something as simple as wiping yourself."

Face bright red, crying in earnest now, she just sat on the toilet, not saying a thing.

"Mary, if you are done peeing, you need to tell me." He made sure his voice was low, with an obvious unspoken threat behind it.

After scrubbing a hand over her face she offered a quiet, "I'm done now, sir."

He didn't praise her for finally admitting it, she needed to get past her embarrassment when it came to her body, but he was more gentle then he would be under other circumstances while wiping her dry. "Perch yourself on the edge of the tub so we can take care of your neck now."

Unlocking the medicine chest, he pulled out some antibacterial cream and squirted some on his palm. Tilting her head up with his thumb, he scooped a little of the cream up with his fingers and began massaging it into the welt. "This isn't so bad, won't even leave a scar, but even so, you'll be more careful next time, won't you, Mary?

"Yes, sir." The dowel slipping and pulling on the noose was more likely his fault then hers but she still accepted the blame, just as he'd wanted her to. Things that hurt were due to her failings, things that went well or felt good were due to his influence, it was just the nature of how her life would be from now on.

"But we still have to consider what your punishment will be. I understand you were scared, but you still moved your hands despite knowing you weren't supposed to. Now what do you think we should do about that?"

"You could... paddle me again?" she offered adorably.

"Oh, sweetie, I do love a good paddling but I think this time you need a different form of punishment."

With his hand still on her throat, he felt it as she gulped at his pronouncement. "The box?"

Her terror of the box would never not delight him. "No, I think this time you should take on the responsibility of punishing yourself."

"I. What? Why should I. You sick-"

Sighing he grabbed her lips and squeezed them closed. "There is no blathering in this house. And you _will_ not say a bad word about me or it _will_ be the last word you say for a very long time. Do you understand me?" With exaggerated movements, he forced her lips (and thus her head) up and down so she nodded in agreement. "Good. Follow me."

Since he was dragging her along by her lips, it wasn't as if she had any choice other than to follow him, but giving the order still felt good. Once back in the bedroom he released her and told her to sit on the edge of the bed. After digging around in the dresser for a moment he pulled out a set of wicked looking clamps. "These are for you," he said, holding them out to her.

"What the hell are those?"

Striding to the bed he slapped her across the face. Hard. "There will be none of that kind of language while under my roof! Do you really enjoy being punished that much?"

"No, sir," she said sullenly. If she hadn't been being such a bad girl, he might have considered the pout she was sporting cute. As it was though, he wanted to smack her again just on the principle of the thing.

"You certainly don't act like it. First things first. These are nipple clamps." He shoved them into her hand. "You are going to attach one to each nipple. It'll hurt. A lot. But you are going to do it because if you don't, I will and not only will I put them on, but I'll twist them and pull on them and make you feel like I'm ripping those pathetic little nubs that are masquerading as nipples right off your chest. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. I will be right back and when I return I expect to see you sitting properly on the chair with your ankles crossed and to the side, your hands clasped daintily in your lap and those clamps hanging from your nipples." Without waiting for her to respond he strode out of the room.

In the kitchen he put on a pair of plastic gloves, grabbed the hottest pepper he had and washed it before slicing it open lengthwise. What better way to get her to mind her tongue then to make her feel as if it were being burned? Sometimes he reached a level of deviousness that even surprised himself. Returning to the bedroom, chili in hand, he found that, surprisingly, she actually had done as he'd ordered her too.

"Not bad," he offered as he dug about in the drawer for a muzzle. "Shoulders back further though and head up a little higher." As she adjusted he came around in front of her. "Now open your mouth." The moment she did he popped the pepper inside and pulled off the gloves, turning them inside out as he did and then instantly put the muzzle over the bottom half of her face. It was a simple rectangle of leather set between two large rubber bands and before she could react he had the bottom one stretching from under her chin to the top of her head and the top one going from beneath her nose to the back of her head. It made her wig bunch up a bit, but there was nothing he could do about that.

"Five minutes," he said, pulling a stopwatch out of his pocket. Of course, he set the thing to go off in ten minutes instead, but there was no way for her to know that. "And be warned. Every movement you make will double the length of this punishment." Watching her, he could tell the second the heat from the pepper hit. Her eyes grew wide and began to water but despite how much pain she had to be in between the pepper and the nipple clamps, she didn't move a muscle. He back stayed straight and her hands stayed clasped and she didn't do more than start blinking furiously.

Three minutes in tears began to run down her cheeks and he let them fall, neither acknowledging them or her but pretending to keep his full attention on watching the timer count down. By the time seven minutes had passed she was panting, huge gasping breaths in and out of her nose. Finally the watch beeped and he calmly turned it off and returned it to his pocket, looking her in the eye for the first time since he'd returned to the room. "I will not be hearing any foul language out of you again, will I?"

She shook her head vigorously. He suspected she'd slip up if he got her angry or upset enough again, but most likely she'd at least make the attempt to censor herself, which was all he could expect this early on in her training. "Keep you mouth shut until I say otherwise," he said as he removed her muzzle, finger combing her hair back into place as he did so. He couldn't wait for her hair to grow long enough she wouldn't need the wig anymore.

Carefully slipping one of the gloves back on he tapped her chin. "Open," he ordered and quickly pulled the two halves out of her mouth. "I'll go get you a glass of milk to help kill some of that burn. Stay right there, I'll be right back." Milk was the best thing to kill the heat from spicy food. And it was also quite good for hiding the taste of sedatives. It was barely into the afternoon. He could get her to sleep for an hour or so and then wake her and make her think it was a brand new day.

Mary gulped the milk down, no doubt eager to quench the pain and by the time he returned after washing out the glass she had been practically falling asleep in the chair so it was easy to remove the clamps and nudge her toward the bed. She even accepted being cuffed and chained with no protest whatsoever. He stripped and climbed in next to her, but within minutes of wrapping his arms around her, she was asleep.

Rather than wasting the time as she napped, he got redressed and went and took care of stripping down the box. Putting what needed to be burned out back in the metal barrel to take care of later he sterilized the rest and then returned to his girl.

He played with her again, having his fun with her body, imagining how it would develop as she grew. He'd done his research, he knew what to do to tweak how she developed physically and he'd had his hand at molding enough girls he thought he'd do okay at getting her where she should be mentally as well. For now though, rubbing himself off between her thighs while fingering her open (not that he'd fuck her yet, but the sooner she got used to the stretch the better) he just enjoyed the moment.

After he came he cleaned the two of them up and then roughly shook her awake. "Quit lazing about, Mary. It's time to start the day."

Yawning, she blearily blinked up at him for a moment before accepting and returning a deep good morning kiss without seeming aware she was doing so.

"Good morning, Mary. Thank you for such a lovely greeting. You're being such a good girl this morning."

The smile she gave him in response to that was blinding and beautiful.

"Thank you, sir." It was the drugs, no doubt still in her system, that was making her so agreeable this afternoon, but he'd take what he could get.

"Ready for me to unlock you now?"

"Yes, sir."

She was so out of it she didn't even notice that when he removed her heavy sleep cuffs he slipped thin, butter soft leather ones in their place. "Do you remember how we walked around the room a few days ago?" She nodded, but looked a little confused, no doubt due to the fact that even though that had happened that only six hours ago, she was unable to actually pinpoint exactly when they had done that. "I want you to get orbit the room a few times the same way in order to get some exercise while I go get started on breakfast. Do you think you can do that for me?"

Nodding again in that unconscious way of hers, she accept his outstretched hand and got to her feet.

"Remember, around the room five times and then wait for me on the chair. I know you're still tired, but try to maintain the best posture you can, alright?"

Instead of replying she straightened up, making a decent attempt at acceptable posture.

"That's my girl." Dropping a kiss onto her forehead he left her stumbling around the room and headed to the kitchen, debating what, if anything, he was going to slip into her oatmeal.

Samuel had Mary's "days" go on like that for the rest of the summer. "Morning" would begin whenever he wanted and she got used to being woken up with kisses and discovering various marks and bruises on her body that she hadn't gone to bed with. After feeding her a breakfast doctored with various drugs (at a minimum her hormones but he liked to add other things as well to keep her pliant and more open to suggestions) she had her exercises since maintaining muscle tone was important and then, depending on the length of the "day" would be either lunch or lessons.

Lessons were _fun_. Sometimes they involved his attempts at goading Mary into talking back or yelling at him along with the punishment that followed, while other times he'd force her to stand absolutely still for hours by way of a collar that was set up to shock her if it sensed any movement. He tried new things with her all the time. He particularly enjoyed teaching her to sit properly and silently while having her nipple clamps tugged and twisted. Another time he had her read aloud from an etiquette book while she was being paddled. All the while proper posture was always enforced and after the first dozen times he'd forced her to punish herself for breaking it she unconsciously began to discipline herself the second she realize she was slouching.

"Afternoons," if they existed, might contain a bath or her spending hours tied up in increasingly more complex positions in order to increase her flexibility. She also might spend some time working on her penmanship, copying over and over again lists of possible punishments or simple phrases about honoring one's father or regarding a woman's place in the home.

Not that he regimented every second of her life, he might be strict but he would never be as strict as that. He gave Mary downtime occasionally, allowing her old 'how to keep a home' type books so she could learn all those things women, proper women, needed to know like cooking and cleaning and keeping house as well as leisure activities like mending and needlepoint. Given time, he might even present her with a needle and thread to start trying her hand at it.

To reinforce her fear and dislike of confinement and small places, and to keep the threat of the box as harsh a one as possible, he made judicious use of the bedroom closet as a place for punishments. A favorite way to do so was to have her kneel on the floor with her hands clasped behind her back and he'd lock the cuffs together and then attach them to the back wall, forcing her to press her head down to the floor. It presented him with such a beautiful angle of her ass it was almost painful to shut the door and block it from view.

That wasn't to say he didn't use the box as well once it was rebuilt, but he tended to sneak her into it while she was asleep. He'd secure her inside of it, blinded and deafened and all trussed up but leave the top board off so he could watch her reaction when she awoke to find herself in there. Thrashing and panicking and trying to scream, but unable to do a thing about it. Sometimes he'd leave her in there when he had to head away from the cabin on errands but usually it'd only be for an hour or two. Either way, she'd wake back up in bed and he'd act like she'd never left it and would dismiss her experience, if she mentioned it, as just a nightmare.

Mary was a stubborn one, that was for certain. If it weren't for the drugs or her perpetual exhaustion due to his not letting her get the amount of sleep her growing body needed she might have been able to resist him better but, between that and the frequent punishments and threats, she was coming along nicely. He'd gotten her to the point that she always called him "sir," responded to her name, and was for the most part quiet and polite when she spoke. She'd begun to react properly to his touches, leaning into his embrace, returning his kisses and sometimes even moaning when he was sucking on her tits.

Everything was going so well.

It was his last trip into town that was the icing on the cake. Those terrible, negligent people who had been being paid to take care of his Mary before he relieved them of the responsibility had been arrested. Apparently the school system had reported to social services about "Dean" failing to show up for the first week of classes and, when asked, several neighbors mentioned not only the times they'd heard fighting going on inside the house but also that they'd assumed a new home had been assigned since there'd been no sign of her in months. The police found it odd that a barely eleven year old child would be able to successfully run away without taking any of their things or having been reported being seen getting a bus ticket or hitchhiking. Reading between the lines, Samuel was pretty sure the cops, despite only arresting the foster parents for not reporting "Dean" missing and for fraudulently cashing the state's checks that were supposed to be for her support, actually thought that they had accidentally killed her somehow.

Little did they know.

Well, whatever. It would have made things difficult if not for the fact the Amber Alert was for a preteen, skinny, sandy haired boy, Dean Winchester, not the gorgeous, already beginning to develop into womanhood, blonde girl, Mary Campbell. Not that he planned on her leaving the cabin anytime soon, but still, he doubted anyone would recognize her now, let alone once her hair had grown out more and her breasts come in.

To celebrate, he decided she would finally be allowed out into the rest of the cabin. It was about time she saw some of it other than the bedroom and bathroom, wasn't it? And he knew just the thing to make the whole experience perfect. It took a few days to set up, he had to cut a tree and string some popcorn and wrap some presents up, but before he knew it everything was ready.

His girl's first Christmas at home.

She was going to love it.


	3. Mary

"I have a surprise for you today, Mary," he explained after waking her.

"A surprise, sir?" She didn't seem all that excited, but he supposed he couldn't really blame her. His last surprise had involved her being introduced to a set of attached thigh cuffs that he put on her in hopes of curing her bowleggedness. They hadn't done much in that regard, yet anyway, but they forced her stride to shorten considerably and her hips to sway so he decided she should continue to wear them.

"A wonderful surprise. I think you're really going to like this one." Covering her eyes with his hands, he led her into the main room. "Merry Christmas, Mary!" he yelled as removed his hands to reveal the Christmas tree he'd decorated for her.

"Christmas?"

Bending down to give her a kiss on the cheek he pulled her into a hug. "Yep, Christmas. Did you really think we weren't going to celebrate it this year?"

"No, sir. I. Just. Isn't it. Wasn't it... I thought."

"Use your words, Mary. What are you trying to say?"

Looking up at him, eyes bright, she took a deep breath and asked, "How can it be Christmas?"

"Aww, my poor confused sweetheart, I know how hard a time you have trying to keep even the simplest of details straight but don't you worry your pretty little head about it, all right? That's what I'm here for. I'll take care of you. I'll take care of everything. Now," he added before she could realize he'd never really answered her question, "Who's ready for presents?"

She smiled a bit nervously. "Presents, sir?"

"Of course! It wouldn't be Christmas without presents, would it?"

"No, sir."

"Then sit on down and I'll bring you your first one." Mary carefully settled herself on the edge of the couch with her ankles crossed and feet tucked to the side, her hands in her lap and her back very straight, just like he'd trained her to. What a good girl. "What do you think, this one should be first?" he asked, reaching under the tree and holding up one of the smaller ones, tied up in a plain white handkerchief. 

"If you think so, sir."

"Then here you go." He watched as her long, beautiful fingers deftly undid the knot, revealing the candy bar within.

"Chocolate! Thank you, sir!" She hadn't had any kind of dessert in the entire time she'd been with him since he didn't like the idea of feeding his girl empty calories very much, but he figured she was due a treat. 

"You're welcome, Mary. Ready for your next present?"

This time the smile she gave him was open and bright. "Yes, please."

The next two presents were accepted graciously, but despite her trying to school her reaction, he knew she hadn't been excited about either of them. To be fair, the nail polish he'd gotten her was just a simple pink one, much like the color he'd been painting her nails this whole time and she was most likely tired of the color. She probably would have rather gotten one of those bright sparkly ones, but he didn't approve of that kind of ostentatiousness so she'd just have to make do. And, like any typical girl, her dismay over the lip gloss was understandable. It wasn't scented or overly bright, but he told her she needn't worry, she'd be old enough for real make up soon enough.

The last present was a little larger than the others, a soft, light gray lump of fabric tied together with a green ribbon. "I'll still expect you to be naked when in the bedroom, but I thought you might like something to wear the rest of the time," he explained as the lump revealed itself to be a simple shift. "You can try it on now, if you like."

She clutched it to her chest for a moment before carefully moving her other presents off her lap onto the coffee table and standing up and slipping it over her head. The shift flowed over, just as he'd hoped it would. Its two thin straps were a tad too long so instead of the neckline beginning at her clavicle, it began just below her nipples. The plain dress didn't look like much more than a simple, slightly over-sized sleeveless tee shirt on her, hanging straight down as it did, covering her hips and ending just above her thigh cuffs but she seemed very pleased, nonetheless. "Thank you, sir." Her voice was filled with wonder, more happy than he'd ever heard it before.

"Would you rather have the ribbon in your hair or should I weave it into the collar?" 

Considering how much she seemed to hate her wig (which he agreed with, he couldn't _wait_ until her hair grew out enough she wouldn't need it anymore) he was completely unsurprised when she replied, "The collar please."

She stood very still as he worked the ribbon in and out of the slits along the collar. All in all, he was very pleased with the result. The green brought out her eyes and added a nice, feminine touch to the dress. "There you go. Now the dress is just as beautiful as you are."

"Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome, Mary. What do you think, would you like to eat breakfast at the table this morning?"

You'd think he'd offered her the world considering the amazing smile she gave him for asking her that. "Yes, sir, I'd like that very much." 

The smile dimmed when he led her to the table and locked her left wrist cuff to the heavy chain that ran around the table leg. Picky little thing, it wasn't it restricted her movements any; it was long enough she'd still be able to use her hand to eat with. There was just no pleasing some people.

"You wait right there, I made everything earlier and I've just been keeping it warm on the stove. Back in a moment!"

Since everything was already ready assembling the tray for their meal didn't take more than a minute, but he took his time deciding on what drugs to dose her with. He needed her to be happy and relaxed after they ate so he didn't hurt her, and aware enough to remember what they did but not with it enough to fight back to stop him. Drugging people was a tricky business, no wonder doctors got paid so much.

By the end of the meal between the drugs, the dress, and the sheer pleasure of being able to feed herself Mary was back to her typical happy self. "Ready for to continue our Christmas celebration?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. I'd like you to go put your presents away. I think the top drawer of the vanity in the bedroom would be the best place for them for now. Then go use the bathroom, wash up and wait for me in the bedroom. That is, if you think you're responsible enough to do that on your own now."

"I am, sir."

Leaning in close, he stared straight into her eyes. "I need to clean up, so I'm going to trust you on that. You won't make me sorry I did, will you?"

"No, sir!"

"All right. Now, remember, when I'm done in the kitchen I expect to see you in the bedroom waiting for me with your presents, all your presents, including the dress, put neatly away. Do you understand me?" When she nodded he unlocked her and shooed her off on her way.

Ten minutes later he walked into the bedroom and smiled because there she was, back in her naked glory, perched on the bed waiting for him. "That's my good girl," he said as he pulled the sheets down.

"Are we going back to bed, sir? I thought you said we'd be celebrating Christmas some more?"

"Oh we are, Mary," he explained as he crawled on top of her, pushing her down onto the bed. "It's time for you to give me my present." 

"I don't understand."

"I don't understand, _sir_ ," he corrected gently as he locked her wrists to the headboard before separating her thigh cuffs from one another.

"I don't understand, sir." Bless her sweet little heart, it really seemed like she didn't.

"I gave you four lovely presents this morning, didn't I?" He ran his hand across her stomach and then up her side before settling his over her chest and the slightest beginning of breasts that were developing there. "Christmas isn't just about getting, Mary. That would be selfish and you don't want to be selfish, do you, Mary?"

"No, sir," she replied, but didn't sound to sure about it.

"Then, like I said, it's time for _my_ present." Bending over he took her nipple in his mouth, flicked it with his tongue and then began sucking on it while he undressed, dropping his clothes on the floor and grabbing the bottle of lube he'd left there earlier.

"Sir!" 

"Hush now. You'll like this, I promise." She might not realize it yet, but her body already knew how to respond to his touch and knew it liked what he did. Soon she was arching her back, gasping as he got to work with both his hands as well- stroking her with his left while using the index and middle fingertips of his right to touch, rub, stroke, and press her perineum.

"What are you-"

"This is my present, Mary. Making you feel as good as you make me feel. Isn't this nice?" Between the drugs and the way he'd been training her to respond to his touch it wasn't long before she began to relax and enjoy herself and before she knew it he had his fingers inside rubbing her prostate.

"No, no, stop, please!"

"Shhhh, it's alright, you're doing great." Taking a moment to lube himself up, once he thought she was loose enough he removed his fingers. "You're so beautiful like this, Mary," he murmured, slowly pushing himself inside. She was so tight, so amazing, so different than any of the other girls he'd had. 

"Stop! Don't. Sir, please! No!" her voice hitched and broke and then she was crying and blithering, repeating the same nonsense over and over so he had no choice but to ignore the distraction as he began thrusting in earnest. 

Mary. His Mary was so goddamn amazing. He was right to have waited for a special time for them to make love. He tried to draw it out, to make the moment last, but he couldn't. He came calling her name and collapsed on top of her. 

This was the best Christmas he'd had in a long, long time.

He couldn't wait to do it again in a few months.

They rested a little together before he went and got a washcloth. Even with the impromptu nap, his poor dear was all tuckered out, barely acknowledging him as he cleaned the two of them up. Well, he wasn't going to have any of that. 

"Mary?" He unlocked her wrist cuffs and pulled her into a sitting position, ignoring her wince because he wasn't about to acknowledge her being a drama queen- he'd checked, he hadn't drawn blood. "Mary! Are you listening to me?" He raised his hand, ready to slap her if she didn't respond.

"Yes, sir." She'd answered quickly, but her voice was flat, distant.

"Did you have a good Christmas, Mary? Did you like your presents?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Why don't you put your dress on and take your chocolate into the main room? I'll build us a fire." When she sniffled, he looked at her carefully. He'd made her so happy with his simple suggestion she was trying not to cry. Oh, Mary, what a little sweetheart. 

Detouring to drop the washcloth in the hamper in the bathroom, Samuel had already got the kindling burning by the time Mary made it out of the bedroom. "Here," he said, herding her to the footstool by his chair. "You sit here, this way when I've gotten the fire going you can lean up against me."

In no time at all the fire was burning merrily. Samuel settled into his chair, tugging Mary back a little so she leaned against his legs. Still sitting rather stiffly and sniffling occasionally, she began to slowly nibble on her chocolate. Trying to relax her, he he began stroking her wig. Hopefully, in another month or two and her hair would finally be long enough she wouldn't need it. He have to plan something to celebrate when they could be finally rid of the thing, maybe it was time for his girl to have some lingerie? Most likely it'd take at least another six months, if not a full year for her to need a bra but he did have some lovely lace and silk underwear he'd bought for her. He really did like her naked though, there was something about every inch of her being accessible that was just so damn alluring. Well, there was time yet, he'd figure something out. 

They spent the day lazing about, since it was "Christmas" he didn't even have her do any of her typical lessons. Feeling unreasonably generous, he unlocked the cabinet where he keeps the books to let her have something other than her typical etiquette or keeping house books to read. The Shakespeare he gave her might have been above her reading level, but it was important for her to broaden her horizons.

Mary must have appreciated all his work to keep the day special, she was quiet and respectful and just utterly perfect all day. He couldn't have been prouder of her. It didn't stop him with messing with her head even further by removing all traces of the tree while she slept though.

A result of which was he was kind of tired when her the next morning so she had to do with a very quick fuck rather than the two of them making love like he'd originally planned. He'd make it up to her later. She perked up a bit when he said she could get dressed and join him for breakfast in the main room though. He'd never get over how Mary could find pleasure in the simplest things.

"What happened to the Christmas tree, sir?" She was so adorably confused, she didn't even notice that he attached her wrist to the table.

"Huh? Oh, well, it was drying out after being up so long. All the needles were falling off so I hauled it outside and chopped it up for firewood."

"So long? But, Christmas was only yesterday."

"Mary, Mary, Mary. My poor, sweet, confused Mary. Christmas was weeks ago, honey. Don't you remember?" He kissed the top of her head as he walked past her to the kitchen to make breakfast.

"Weeks ago?" she asked, half to herself, half to him.

"Yes, sweetheart. But you still like your presents, don't you? Or have you grown tired of your dress? You don't have to wear it if you don't want to," he offered from the kitchen as he set about making her oatmeal while frying up some hash browns and bacon for himself. 

"No!" It was practically shouted, she was so adamant about it. She _really_ did not like going around naked, did she? Well, he supposed it might get a little cold without clothes on, but he'd have thought she'd gotten used to it by now. "My dress is nice. Thank you, sir."

"I'm glad you like it. I liked my present too." He was watching her when he said it so he noticed the way she shuddered. Maybe even with the dress on she was cold? He'd have to build a fire more often to keep it a bit warmer in the cabin. Maybe after breakfast.

Samuel let her stay at the table after they finished eating and set about teaching her to paint her own nails. Disappointingly, she was really terrible at it. But, practice made perfect and five smacks on her ass for every smudge and five more on her groin for every drop she spilled on the table was a good motivator and by the end of the day she was nearly as good as him at it. Before she put the polish away for the day he added additional in a few switches to the inside of her knees for being so wasteful, the brand new bottle was more than half empty! He didn't tell her he'd bought a full dozen on them, he'd just replace the bottle that night and she'd never be the wiser.

He didn't let her put the lip gloss on herself though. She wasn't ready, wasn't stable enough, to be allowed a mirror quite yet and he could only imagine the mess she'd make of trying to put on makeup without one. But that was okay, he didn't mind having to put it on her for her. The way she pursed her lips into a pout so he could spread it on was so adorable. Half the time it made him immediately begin kissing her and they never even got to the whole applying the lip gloss thing. He couldn't help himself! No one could blame him, her looking at him like that. Luckily, unlike most girls, she didn't seem that keen on the whole idea of make up so it didn't matter much. That would most likely change, given time, but for now he relished in his sweet little Mary wanting to look as natural as possible.

In October he decided it was time to celebrate Mary's birthday. He'd had to be rather harsh with her a lot lately and felt a little bad. This most recent time was completely her own fault though, he'd caught her touching her breasts again and she had to learn that even if she was frustrated with how slowly they were developing she still wasn't allowed to touch herself, that pleasure was for him and him alone so he'd attached weights to her nipple clamps, chained her thigh and ankle cuffs together and then ordered her to crawl around the room on her hands and knees until he told her to stop. He wasn't sure if the weights would help encourage her breasts to grow or not, but it made for a good punishment and forcing himself to go bake something ensured he didn't just spend the whole day watching her because, as much as he'd like to just that, she shouldn't come to depend on having him as an audience all the time. 

So, he decided to make her a cake. Nothing fancy, mind you. No icing or powdered sugar or anything like that, just a simple plain pound cake that he'd top off with a candle. Once it was out of the oven and cooling and he'd wrapped her present he wandered back into the bedroom, sighing happily at the sight. There was his girl, in all her naked glory, with her tiny tits swinging about and that perky ass high up in the air. 

"Have you learned your lesson yet, Mary?" He made sure to keep his voice hard, not wanting to give anything away quite yet.

It was only when she raised her head to look at him that he remembered he'd not only gagged her, but used the solid red ball instead of one she could breathe through. Oops. No wonder she was looking a little ragged around the edges. She nodded though, not that he'd expected anything other than an affirmative response from her. He only hoped she wasn't just trying to end the punishment, but that she really would remember she wasn't allowed to touch herself without permission.

"Then let's get you out of all that." He undid her legs first then helped her roll over onto her back. Poor thing, her knees were pretty bruised up. It was a good thing she always healed so quickly, he supposed. Once he got the clamps off he realized her nipples weren't looking that happy either. They were ridiculously sensitive though, all it took was a light stroking for her to be breathing heavy and moaning at his touch. He'd have to remember to experiment with the weights again later, but for now he just gave each nipple a kiss and then left them alone. The gag was a pain to unlock, the stupid wig got caught in the buckle, but eventually he got it free and pulled the gag out of her mouth. "What do you say, Mary?"

"Thank you, sir."

"Did you wash your dress last night, like I asked you to?" Every "day" or two he had Mary hand wash her dress in the sink and then hang it to dry over the tub. Sure, he had a washing machine and dryer, but that was for his clothes. Mary had to learn to appreciate and care for her own things, he wouldn't want her to take anything for granted, would he?

"Yes, sir." 

"Then go get it." Helping her to her feet, he slapped her ass to send her own her way. "While you're in the bathroom, splash some water on your face. You always drool so much when you wear that gag, it's disgusting."

She offered a quiet, "Sorry, sir," as she slipped into the bathroom, smartly leaving the doors open so he could keep an eye on her. It had taken a while for her to learn she wasn't allowed to shut a door, but she had. Which was good, it had hurt him to slam that door on her hand over and over again. He hated when she forced him to discipline her like that.

"Is it dry?"

"Nearly, sir."

"Well then, it's up to you if you want to wear it or not." He wasn't remotely surprised to see her immediately begin weaving the ribbon back in so she could slip it on. Mary just loved that dress.

Once she had it on she carefully smoothed out the wrinkles and then stepped into the hall to wait for him. She followed him into the main room, one step behind like the good girl she was, stopping when she saw the brightly wrapped present on the table.

"Sir?"

"Happy birthday, Mary! Do you want cake or present first?"

"Birthday?" Adorably confused, she stared at the present for a moment before looking at him, but didn't question him further. "I can have cake?" He really should let her have sweets other than for holidays, they made her so happy.

"It's your birthday, of course you get cake!" He pulled her close and kissed her deeply. "Now, if you don't have a preference, I'd like to give you your present first, if that's okay with you."

"Whichever you like, sir."

"Then here you go." He would never not love how her eyes lit up over the simplest of things. 

It only took her a few minutes to untie the ribbon and remove the box's top, revealing the contents within. A boar bristle brush and two barrettes for her hair and new dress in the same style as the one she was wearing but this one was a lovely deep pink and had matching underwear to go along with it. "Thank you for the presents, but I don't understand. A brush, sir?"

To be fair, it was a valid question. Other than when in the bath she'd been wearing her wig at all times and he certainly didn't let her touch it, so why would he give her a brush? "What do you say we get rid of this?" he asked and, with a flourish, he plucked the wig off her head. Her hair was still a little short and definitely needed some styling, but he liked her looking as natural as possible so he was willing to forego the wig, especially since he knew how much she hated it. "Come sit on the footstool and I'll brush out your hair."

When they celebrated Christmas, Samuel had discovered how much he liked having Mary sitting at his feet where he could absentmindedly touch or stroke her while reading or doing other things. She seemed to like it too, contently curling up on the footstool and leaning up against his legs while she either read or simply stared into the fireplace. He was seriously considering building her a little writing tablet so she could have a solid surface and practice her penmanship there instead of having to work at the table or the vanity. Today she sat up straight however, which made it easier for him to work on her hair. She was a smart one, his Mary.

"One hundred strokes in the morning and in the evening is ideal to keep your hair strong and properly maintained. Will you count for me, Mary?" 

"Of course, sir. One. Two...."

He let the quiet numbers wash over them both as he ran the brush through her hair. It had turned darker while under the wig, no longer the sandy colored locks that had adorned her head when he'd first taken her. Now, her hair was darker, more of an amber color, and utterly gorgeous. It was almost shoulder length, eventually he'd like it to grow to at least midway down her back, if not longer, but there was plenty of time for that. 

"Ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred."

Kissing the top of her head, he brushed down one last flyaway hair before he said, "Turn around and kneel in front of me, sweetheart, let me see how it looks."

With her thighs still attached they way they were Mary couldn't just slip off the stool, she had to stand and do a bit of a shuffle-and-turn before she could sink to her knees, catching herself with a hand so she didn't further aggravate the bruising. In the recent months he'd made sure she'd had a lot of practice moving with the thigh cuffs locked together so she managed the move with an impressive effortless grace to it, worthy of the finest ballerinas.

"Chin up, Mary, and clasp you hands behind your back like I taught you." He loved it when she presented herself like that to him- it forced her chest out, accentuating her breasts that much more. They were still small of course, but she was young yet and there was definite development and the potential of what they might be never failed to excite him.

Carefully, he thread the barrettes into either side of her head, pinning back the hair to keep it off her face. Soon she was sporting two majestic golden butterflies, peeking out from her amber waves. She was so beautiful. He'd chosen so well when he picked her. "There you go, darling," he said, pressing a kiss onto her cute little button nose. "Maybe we should find some instructions on braiding your hair, I think you'll look that much more lovely with your up in either twists or braid, don't you?"

Without waiting for a reply he stood up, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her to her feet before giving that cute butt of hers a double handed squeeze. "Now, how about you change into your new clothes while I cut you a piece of cake?"

"Yes, sir."

A quick nuzzle to her neck and he was off, trusting her to be able to handle such a simple task on her own. He was careful to keep her in sight, of course; he always made it clear he was doing so, so she would know she was being watched when in the main room. He didn't want her to get any ideas about poking about the lock on the front door. He'd drilled into her again and again that locks and chains were there to keep her safe, but she still seemed insistent on testing them just to make sure. Silly girl. 

Cutting a small piece of cake for Mary and a rather generous sized one for himself he put them on the tray along with a glass of milk and a cup of coffee and carried it out to the table. Mary looked practically enchanting in her new shift; she'd even thought to weave the ribbon from the present into the collar. The pale silver stood out against the dress, accentuating the contrast between the dark pink fabric and her pale, beautiful collar bones. "You look lovely, Mary."

"Thank you, sir."

"Lift up, let me see how those new panties look on you."

"But-"

"Your dress," he clarified, changing his tone to make it clear what he was saying was now an order and she'd better obey or face the consequences, "Lift your dress so I can see your underwear."

Shyly, she lifted the hem of her dress and pointed to her thigh cuffs. "I couldn't put them on, sir. Not with the cuffs attached."

Oh, right. That was a very good point. Should he keep her wearing them? While they hadn't seemed to do a thing for her bowleggedness, they had been forcing her to keep her knees together, a trait all proper and well trained girls should aspire to. And they did encourage her hips to sway so nicely. Decisions, decisions. "You've had such a terrible time in the past remembering to keep those knees of yours together. Only whores and harlots spread their legs at the drop of a hat and you aren't a whore or harlot, are you, Mary?"

"No, sir." 

"So, if I remove your thigh cuffs do you think you'll be able to remember to keep your legs together like a good girl?"

"Yes, sir," she murmured, her face flaming brightly. It would never not be adorable how embarrassed she got over the simplest things. She was probably worrying for nothing, considering the way he'd been training her he was sure she'd remember to keep her legs together. And, well, if she didn't he could always find a few ways to remind her.

"Let's get you out of those cuffs then. Hold your dress up for me." Kneeling down in front of her, he wrapped his hand around her left thigh, stroking the silky skin with his thumb. "Higher, sweetheart," he chided gently when she only brought the hem about an inch. Then, when she lifted it only the slightest bit more he grabbed a handful and raised it all the way up past her waist, which, coincidentally, bared her groin at just the right height to lean over and kiss. And tongue. And nibble. And suck on a little. And fuck this stupid lock, because how the hell was he supposed to concentrate on anything when he had this angel in front of him? He pushed the dress up even higher, exposing her little breasts, lovely little nubs that they were. So small. So perfect.

He lost himself for a little while ravishing his sweet girl before the hardness of the floor started to bother him. Damn it, his knees just weren't what they used to be. "Well," he said, unlocking the cuffs before slapping Mary on her perfect, perky ass, "Why don't put on that pretty pair of underwear and then we can have some cake?"

Mary just stood there for a moment, proudly displaying his beautiful marks before she lowered her dress back down, scrubbed a hand over her face and took a shaky step to the table to pick up her panties. She probably was just overwhelmed, celebrating her birthday with someone who loved her so much. He didn't think she got much love back in her old life, poor thing.

Deciding to stay in the cabin over the winter meant Samuel had a lot to do. Preparing for the worst was always the best idea so when he made his plans he assumed they would get enough snow that the roads would be impassable for months. With any luck, that wouldn't be the case, but he'd always found it was better to be safe than sorry when it came to things like running out of food and the various other things he needed. He managed several trips into town for supplies without Mary being the wiser, sneaking away while she was either sleeping or locked in the bedroom working on lessons. 

Thankfully, his efforts at skewing her sense of time worked well to help in that regard; the five to six hour trip would be explained away as time spent working outside, if he even bothered to acknowledge he had left the cabin at all. He was able to purchase enough food to completely stock both the larder and root cellar (the new one, not the one he'd repurposed years ago to be a training room/prison for his Marys), the medicine cabinet was now filled with everything and anything he might want or need to dose Mary with, and he'd also managed to pick up enough gasoline to run the generator for at least half a year and she was none the wiser.

Of course, she had absolutely no idea he was prepping their home for winter, he was pretty sure that thanks to how he'd been mucking with her sense of time she had no idea what year it was, let alone what season. She hadn't been outside since the day he'd rescued her. Truly outside, that was. Outside and actually aware of it anyway. Sometimes he worried that the lack of fresh air might have an affect on her health, but until he could be certain she wouldn't try to escape, he had to keep her indoors to ensure her safety. 

Maybe come spring he'd have her to the point she could work the garden with him. She was almost there, if he had to make a guess, but better safe than sorry so waiting until winter had come and gone seemed the smartest thing to do. Perhaps by next winter they might even be able to move from the cabin to the main house. It was on the outskirts of town, but only a mile or so away from the next neighbor as opposed to the complete isolation of the cabin. Which, he supposed, was a downside as well. Mary was his and his alone. Did he really want to share her with the rest of the world?

Besides, here at the cabin he and Mary could make love wherever and whenever they wished. In town they would be expected to conform to typical _standards_ and risked being confronted by people who simply did not understand. He'd faced it before and it always ended badly. Well, badly for them, not for him. Sure, Mary, his darling, first Mary, had been upset when he'd explained to her that her mother had left them and would never be coming back but eventually she'd gotten over it and never questioned his story. That Mary had been resilient and perfect and loved him with all her heart and this Mary, his new, wonderful Mary, would be the same way, he just knew it.

True, this Mary had been a little quiet and withdrawn since they'd celebrated her birthday but in many ways, Samuel considered it a good thing. She was unfailingly polite now, never saying much other than offering a quiet "yes, sir" or "no, sir" whenever he asked her a question and always kept perfect count of his brushstrokes when he was tending her hair or the number of paddles or smacks he'd felt she'd earned for an infraction, but punishments were getting rarer and rarer. In fact he couldn't recall the last time she'd spoken out of turn. He was so proud of his girl.

They got their first real snow in November. The month had began with a few flurries swirling about but then the temperature started plummeting. Samuel hastily chopped as much wood as he could; the wood pile eventually grew to at least one and a half times the size it normally was. And none too soon because within a week it was snowing in earnest. 

Not that Mary had any clue what the weather was doing outside. He'd closed the shutters over the windows months ago when he'd first let her out of the bedroom in order to control how much natural light they let in so she wouldn't be able to have any real sense of what time of day it was. An added bonus was that now, not only did she not know if it was day or night, she had no idea if it were raining or snowing or doing anything outside at all. The enclosed mud room also helped matters. In general she wasn't left unsupervised in the main room, but on those few occasions she was it didn't matter; he always left the cabin wearing the same thing, adding or removing layers as needed after locking the inner door.

One would have thought confinement would be stifling, but Mary was thriving under his roof. Once skinny and scrappy she was now blossoming into a beautiful, curvy woman. Between the hormones and her exercises and his lessons her hips had filled out and swayed perfectly when she walked. Her hair was long and luxurious. And her breasts! Her perfect, gorgeous breasts. How he loved to play with them. Despite the fact they were still on the small side, he could spend hours just worshiping them. He was even beginning to consider stopping the hormones soon; he'd been taking careful measurements and by his estimates she'd be a proper A cup by Christmas (actual, December 25th Christmas, which, considering how wonderful their first Christmas was, he decided to celebrate it again) and he planned on presenting her with her first bra then. It would probably be best for her not to get much bigger than that, maybe just up to a B. They'd be perfect for her size then. Besides, if she shot up in height later he could always start her on them again later. As long as he was happy with them, he was sure she would be as well. Mary just loved making him happy.

Despite all the extra attention it meant he could lavish on Mary, Samuel found being basically trapped in the cabin due to the weather was a bit trying. He liked having things to do and projects to work on above and beyond training his darling girl and showing her how much he loved her as frequently as possible. He couldn't risk spoiling her though, he couldn't just hand her an easy life; it was important for her to realize she needed to work for things, to earn her place in his bed and by his side.

As a result he'd been letting her take over some of the housework, mostly things like scrubbing the bathroom, sweeping around the cabin, and washing the floors. When it came down to it, those kinds of things were typically woman's work anyway so it was her place to do it all and unlike the kitchen, where there was the risk of her burning herself on the stove or cutting herself with one of the knives, cleaning was just a matter of expending a little effort with a rag, mop or broom and thus relatively safe. 

Besides, since he didn't want her dirtying her clothes, it meant she had to be naked while doing her chores. It became quite the distraction, Mary on her hands and knees, scrubbing away at the floor, back and forth, back and forth. The way her whole body moved with each thrust of the brush was, frankly, memorizing. The fact she was so terrible and stupid about it was frustrating though. Sometimes he wondered how she'd managed to live long enough for him to find her and take her under his wing.

"Mary, what the hell are you doing?" he asked the first time he'd told her to clean the floor and and found that she'd been using the same water over and over instead of doing the sensible thing and dumping and refilling the bucket as it had gotten dirty.

"Cleaning the floor as ordered, sir."

"I told you I wanted these floors clean enough to eat off of. Splashing filthy water around is hardly what I'd call 'cleaning,' Mary." He grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and shoved her face into the bucket, stopping just above the water line. "Does that look clean to you?"

"No, sir." Some of her hair slipped forward and into the disgusting water.

"And you didn't even think to tie your hair back, either? Are you an utter moron or are you just trying to create more work for me?"

"I'm sorry, sir!"

"Sorry? I'll show you sorry!" he yelled, losing patience with her ineptitude and shoving her head down into the bucket and holding her underwater until her flailing and thrashing knocked the entire thing over, spilling dirty water everywhere.

Ignoring her coughing and retching he went and a large rag, a sponge and his favorite paddle. Throwing the first two at her he smacked her across the back and explained, "You are going to be paddled until that mess is cleaned up. Then you're going to refill that damn bucket and get to work on the damn floors and do it properly which means you'll be emptying and refilling that damn bucket every time it even _starts_ to look dirty or I'm going to put the funnel gag on you and pour it down your fucking throat. Do you understand me?"

Despite all her disgusting wheezes she choked out a "Yes, sir," before righting the bucket and setting the sponge in the puddle, letting it absorb some of the water and wringing it out into the bucket. Satisfied she was actually capable of doing the task he began paddling. He alternated where he hit her according to what he could reach. By the time the spill had been cleaned up both the front and back of her thighs were bright red along with her ass, back, stomach and breasts.

Nodding to her, he stuck the paddle under his arm. "Not bad. At least you're capable of cleaning up a mess when you make it. I'm going to go into the kitchen to start on dinner. Food will be on the table in one hour. If you haven't finished the floors by then you'll be eating yours in the box." Ah, the threat of the box. If that didn't motivate her, nothing would. "Do you understand me? One hour."

"Yes, sir."

It was actually closer to two hours before he called her to the table, but she'd learned her lesson well. Not only was the floor spotless, but the water was pretty clear as well. Despite that, he insisted pouring a glass of it for her to drink with dinner since he wouldn't want her to think he wasn't willing to follow through on his threats, would he? She was utterly filthy though and he had no desire to have to clean a chair just because she sat in it in her state, but he remembered his earlier words and since the floor was clean now he tested the idea of it being clean enough to eat off of by setting her plate down on it. 

"Sir?" 

"You finished in time, so you're not forcing me to put you in the box, but I don't think you've earned yourself a place at the table either, not with that little stunt you pulled earlier. You're down here tonight." He tapped the floor before pulling out a chair for himself. "The floor or the box, Mary, it’s your choice."

He was not remotely surprised when she immediately sank to the floor. What did surprise him however was how carefully she sat, folding her legs under her, ankles crossed and slightly to the side with her back perfectly straight. Even on the floor looking utterly miserable with her hair wet and plastered to her face and her body covered with marks, welts and bruises she still stuck to her training because she knew it would make him happy. And it did. His darling Mary was so amazing, he didn't think it was possible but he was falling more and more in love with her each day.

That night Mary started coughing in her sleep and by morning she was running a fever. "Mary, sweetheart? Mary?" He tapped her cheek, but she restlessly just shifted and coughed several deep, wracking, awful sounding coughs instead of waking up for him. Normally Samuel would be meting out a punishment for her not replying to him, obedience was first and foremost under his roof, but decided this would qualify as an extenuating circumstance and he was willing to let the transgression go. "Mary, I'm going to unlock you and then help you sit up now," he said, fumbling with the keys in his haste.

"Sir?" she called out weakly, roused somewhat by him pulling her up into a sitting position. She couldn't seem to hold herself upright though and flopped against him. She was definitely much too warm to the touch.

"I'm here, Mary, I'm here." Wrapping his arm around her he held her close. "I got you."

"I don't feel good, sir." 

"You're sick, darling. My silly girl, you probably inhaled some of that water from the bucket. You need to be more careful about that sort of thing in the future."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"I know, sweetheart, I know. And I forgive you. It's not like you mean to disappoint me so often. I know you don't want to be a bad girl, you just need more lessons on how to be a good one. And you want to be good for me, don't you, Mary?"

"Yes, sir."

"And that's what matters." 

They sat together for a moment before Samuel's concerns prompted him to move. "I'm going prop you up on some pillows and then get some medicine for you. Okay, Mary?"

She might have nodded in response to him, but he really wasn't sure. After laying her back up against their combined pillows he rushed over to the medicine chest to see what he had in there that might help. The first thing he spotted was a thermometer. Good, that would be helpful. After a bit of searching he unearthed half a bottle of green cough syrup. Good, good. But what about her fever? Shit, she was eleven and he had no idea how much she weighed, could he give her aspirin? He was pretty sure he couldn't because it could cause some kind of disease or syndrome or something related to giving it to kids but was that only really little ones? He probably shouldn't risk it either way, but what then? Oxy probably wouldn't do much for a fever, would it? Benzos definitely wouldn't. Damn it, he had all these drugs for fucking with her head and her body and nothing that could actually _help_ her. What the fuck kind of father was he? Okay, breathe Samuel, breathe. Finally he spotted some of that tylenol and codeine combination stuff. It was a little out of date, but it should still should work. 

Mary's temperature was 101, not that bad, and she smartly swallowed the cough syrup and pills without complaint. Samuel spent the rest of the day wiping her down with a wet washcloth and trying to get her to drink something and keep it down. The poor girl was so sick. If only she hadn't been so incompetent. Why did they always make him punish them so much? His poor girls. 

That night Mary's temperature started to rise again and no amount of medicine seemed to help. It hit 103 and kept climbing. She dozed fitfully through the night and into the next day, although even when she wasn't asleep she didn't seem all that awake and alert. She looked around like she didn't know where she was or why she was there. "Daddy?" she cried out at one point, her voice soft and thready.

She'd never called him that before. Daddy. She'd always called him 'sir.' Sure, he'd been the one to suggest that as an acceptable way to address him but still. Daddy. It had such a nice ring to it.

"I'm right here, honey. Daddy's right here."

She seemed to calm a little then so he thought she might be getting better but the next time he checked her fever was almost 105, way too high and with all the snow, he had no way of getting her help. He needed to get her temperature down and he needed to do it quickly. Leaving her for a moment, he went outside and filled some ziplocks with snow and then wrapped them in towels so he could use them as impromptu ice packs and began to lay them around her body. She squirmed and made a weak attempt at getting them off but stopped when he barked a brusque, "Mary! Stop that right now!"

The soft whimper he got in reply nearly broke his heart, but thankfully all the training they'd worked on stuck and she let him apply the ice packs everywhere he needed to- her throat, armpits, and groin. If he were a better man he would have prayed as well but instead all he offered was a quiet, "Please, Mary. Please," as he alternated the ice packs with cool cloth. 

At first he didn't think it was going to help, that he'd gotten her this far into making her his perfect Mart just to lose her. The next time he checked her temperature was still dangerously high, but a few hours later it was down to 104, then 103. It hovered there for a bit but then everything he was doing for her finally seemed kick in and he managed to get her back to a much safer 101. After disposing of the ziplocks and shoving some more meds down her throat, he left her for a little while so he could grab a quick shower and get some food for himself. 

She was sleeping soundly when he returned. Still coughing occasionally, and a little wheezy but her fever had completely broken. "Oh Mary," he whispered as he crawled into bed with her. "I was so scared I was going to lose you."

Mary didn't respond, but he hadn't expected she would. He ran his fingers along her stomach, through the droplets of water that still clung to her from when he'd washed her down with the cool cloths and traced lazy patterns around her breasts and along her collarbone. "My precious Mary," he said, his anger building. Wrapping his hand around her neck he started to squeeze, adding, "Don't you ever do anything like that to me again. You hear me? Don't you ever."

He let her go before her lips turned blue though, after all, there was no point in disciplining his girl when she wasn't clear headed enough to appreciate it.

Once her fever broke Mary recovered fairly quickly from her illness. She tired easily though so they spent many hours together in bed lazily making love when she had the energy for it or simply him playing with her: sucking bruises onto her inner thighs, teasing her breasts until her nipples pebbled into hard, luscious nubs, petting, stroking and scratching her everywhere so his marks could be seen no matter where he looked.

"What do you think about getting you up and walking around today, Mary?" he asked a few days later. "Breakfast in bed is nice, but I think you're well enough to get dressed and eat at the table, don't you?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you, that sounds nice."

After unlocking her cuffs he got himself dressed while she did her usual stretches, the ones he'd taught her to get the blood flowing and encourage her flexibility and then headed to the drawer where he kept her things. "Which would you like to wear this morning, your blue or yellow dress?"

"My... what, sir?"

"Your blue or yellow dress. Surely you remember I gave you presents for your birthday and last Christmas?"

"I remember getting presents," she said, sounding terribly confused and rather unsure of herself, "But I thought. Didn't you give me a gray dress for Christmas, sir? And a pink one for my birthday?"

"Oh, honey, you really have the memory of a goldfish. Come here and take a look. I don't see a pink dress in here, do you? And why on earth would I give you anything gray? Gray is a terrible color." Slowly she inched over and hesitantly peered peered into the drawer, noticeably paling when she saw the two dresses he'd described folded next to their matching panties but no other clothing in sight.

"But where? I remember...."

"You must be remembering wrong, sweetheart," he said, kissing her on the top of her head. She wasn't misremembering a thing of course, he'd used her illness as an opportunity to mess with her head a little more and had replaced the two dresses he'd given her with different ones from storage, leaving her adorably confused. Playing with his girl was just too much fun.

"Oh."

"Now, I asked you a question, Mary, and I expect an answer. Yellow or blue? If you can't decided you can always remain naked."

"No! Blue! Sir," she said quickly before correcting herself. "May I wear the blue dress, sir?"

"How could I say 'no' when you asked so nicely?" He pulled out the blue shift and its matching pair of underwear. "Would you like to wear underwear as well today?" he asked, offering them to her.

"Yes, please."

Instead of handing them over he bent down and held them out for her to step into. He loved dressing his girl. Watching the way her face flamed as he pulled them up slowly, lingering on her smooth groin before giving them a light snap? It would never get old. "Arms up now," he said when he finished playing with her ass and was ready to help her into her dress. She did as he asked, holding her arms up and stood stock still and he pulled it over her. "There we are." He smoothed the dress down making sure his hands slipped over her breasts in the process. "Now what do you say, Mary?"

"Thank you, sir." So polite, his Mary.

"Come on then," he said, leading the way out of the bedroom, "I'll make you some sausages and hash browns for breakfast."You like my hash browns, don't you, Mary?"

"Yes, sir."

Settling her at the table with he fetched her a piece of paper and a pencil and slapped down the penmanship book they'd been using next to her. "Work on improving that horror you call handwriting while I cook. Considering you're still recovering I don't want to have to punish you first thing today, but I will if you force me to."

She readjusted the cuff so the lock and chain were to the side of her wrist instead of leaning on it and pulled her chair in a little further so she could sit properly while she worked and offered a quiet, "I'll try my best, sir."

"See that you do," he replied and headed into the kitchen to make up pancakes, partly because it was a way to mess with her further, but also because he was pretty sure he could find some way to get maple syrup on her and then would have an excuse to lick it off.

Samuel decided to let Mary help with the Christmas preparations this time around. Instead of just having the tree randomly appear in the main room and announcing it was Christmas, he chopped it down and brought it in on the twenty-third, making a big production out of the whole thing. 

"Would you like to help me string popcorn for the tree again, Mary?" he asked her once they'd gotten it settled into its stand.

There was a noticeable pause, where she was obviously about to ask him about if she'd actually ever decorated a tree with him before but then decided not to question him on the matter. Whether he'd successfully planted the false memory or she simply was learning not to voice her perceived conflicting recollections on the matter he didn't know. It didn't matter which was the case actually, either way it worked for him.

"Yes, sir."

"I'll pop us some popcorn then."

The tree was small so it didn't take long for them to get it decorated to his approval. He kept an eye on Mary when she had the needle and thread though, but she didn't seem too terrible wielding it; he only had to smack her hands with the paddle a few times for pricking herself. Maybe he'd let her actually try needlepoint soon instead of just reading about it.

"So what do you think of our tree, Mary?"

"It looks lovely, sir." 

He let her bask in the glow of their lovely tree for a moment before bringing her back down to earth. "Now, not that I didn't love your present last Christmas, but you need to think about what you'll be giving me this time around."

"Sir?"

"Well, I certainly can't take your virginity again, can I? That train's come and gone and is never coming back." Sighing loudly, he reached down to stroke her between the legs. "Not that I don't enjoy making love to you. I do. But I do it so often there's nothing special about it anymore, is there? So, as I said, you are going to need to come up with something to give me this year. After everything I do for you, I expect at least some kind of acknowledgement in return. You don't want me to think that you're selfish, do you? That wouldn't be good. I do not like selfishness in people. The amount of lessons involved in curing someone of that... Well, I'd have to work very hard and I'm not sure it would be worth it. In fact I'm not certain I'd even bother to try."

"No, sir." She couldn't hide her noticeable shudder at his threat. "I wouldn't want you to think I was being selfish." 

"I didn't think you would." He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "Do you think you'll need help with my present then? I could give you some ideas I'd find acceptable if you'd like."

"Thank you, sir. I just don't know what... I wouldn't want to disappoint you, sir."

"I'm pretty easy to please, Mary. Tell you what, I've got a camera, why don't you pose for me and let me take some photos for you? It's an old Polaroid so the pictures will develop instantly. I can take a bunch of them and then I'll choose which I like best and you can wrap them up and give to me for Christmas."

Always eager to please she immediately nodded at the suggestion. "If you like, sir."

"Wonderful!" He clapped his hands together, beaming at her before reaching over to the top shelf where he'd stored the camera earlier. "All right, we'll start with a shot of you posing in front of the tree." Mary meekly did as he bade and positioned herself in front of the tree.

"Perfect. Now smile for me, Mary." After snapping the picture he put it on the table for later. "Take your dress off now."

"W-what?"

"Dress off. Let's get a few of you in just your underwear before we start with the shots of you nude."

"Sir?"

"You said you'd let me take your photo, Mary. You _said_ you didn't want to be a selfish girl this Christmas, Mary. Did you lie to me, Mary?"

"No, sir! No! But...."

"But, what, Mary? You're not ashamed of your body, are you, Mary? Do you need me to demonstrate to you how much I love it? I'd be happy to, either here or in the bedroom and we can take the photos after. You know how much I love it when I can see my marks on you."

"No, that's not necessary, sir." Slowly, and blushing with her entire body, she pulled off her dress, holding it in front of her chest in some vain attempt at preserving her modesty. 

"Mary," he warned, letting his voice grow a hard.

"Sorry, sir." Carefully folding her dress, she reluctantly put it down on the footstool and resumed her place in front of the tree.

"Better. Stand properly though, just like I taught you, head high and chest out. Good, good. Now, give me a smile." He took several pictures as he spoke, preserving her beautiful body in film over and over again. "Panties off now. And come closer, I want to get a few shots showing off how nicely you healed up after I fixed you." She was crying now, big fat tears rolling down her cheeks, but she did as ordered and didn't say a word in complaint, just posed however he asked her to. He'd trained his beautiful girl so well. This was going to be such a wonderful Christmas.

Their second Christmas was just as wonderful as he'd hoped it would be. Mary had loved the robe he'd given her, immediately slipping it on, although she'd seemed less taken with it once he explained it was supposed to be worn in lieu of clothing not on top of it. It always amused him how much she loved her dresses but he still insisted she strip and model the robe for him then and there. Since he'd removed the belt loops and hadn't given her anything so she could tie it shut the silvery satin draped down, catching on the swell of her breasts, hiding her nipples from him, but still providing a lovely look at the rest of her chest, stomach and groin. It was perfect. 

Meanwhile, for his present Mary had, oddly reluctantly, placed the four pictures he'd decided were the best into frames he'd provided and then tied them together with a bow for him to unwrap himself. He kept all the other photos, of course. He was practically kicking himself for not having taken photos previously. He should have been on a regular basis to track her progress. A picture taken every week or so once she'd started on hormones to watch her breasts slowly develop? What a flip book that would have made! He'd been taking measurements, sure, but that was not even remotely the same thing. 

He really loved the photo he'd taken of her groin in particular. It was almost like art, her fingers fanned out so her the prettily polished nails drew attention to the silky smooth skin marred only by the slight surgery scars. Come spring he decided he was going to head into the city and splurge on a fancy new camera so he could take shot after shot of his beautiful girl. 

And with a good camera he could document the marks he left on her skin! He'd no longer have to rely on his memory to try to recall the perfect pattern of switch marks across her back or the fingerprint bruises that often dotted her thighs or all those hickeys he'd so diligently sucked onto her skin that all looked so perfect but, sadly, faded away. 

Maybe he should consider marking her permanently? 

But how? He could have his name tattooed on her to mark her permanently as his, but then he'd have to rely on someone to do it and would he be able to find a reputable shop to work on someone as young as his Mary? Unfortunately he neither had the supplies nor expertise to do the work himself. Branding was always an option though, he supposed. All that involved was shaping a metal rod to form his initials, heating it up and then pressing it onto the skin, right? But what would the end result look like? He'd have to do some research. 

Until then keeping a scrapbook was the ideal solution. And maybe marking her more often. If his expectations for her were higher she'd fail more frequently which would give him more opportunity to mete out punishments. In all honesty, he _should_ be expecting more from her. She'd been training for half a year now and _still_ couldn't do some of the most basic things. Her 'poses' had been stiff and not the least bit alluring and then she hadn't even managed a decent bow when wrapping his present. He'd definitely been being too soft on her. It would be for her own good if he started censuring her more often, how else would she learn?

In January he started getting restless again so he decided to celebrate his birthday and asked Mary to pose for him again. Soon he had photos to preserve for all time the way the beautiful way she blushed when he sucked on the slight bump that remained of what had been her penis, the look of his hand print on her ass, and an artistic angle shot of the way her nipples dangled when stretched by weighted clamps. Treasures, each and every one of them.

Since the party had been so much fun he followed it up by having her birthday again. For that occasion he he had the most wonderful gift to give her: he was going to teach her how to give a proper blowjob. Now, making love was all well and good as was a quick fuck when one couldn't just laze about in bed but there were times a man just needed to take the edge off and a good bj was just the best way to deal with that. 

A few threats about the box and he had her on her knees in front of him with her wrists locked together behind her back because she kept trying to touch him for some reason. (Why? He told her time and time again that a blow job is done with the mouth, not the hands so why was she always pushing at his legs?) Then he popped her mouth open by putting pressure on the sides of her jaw with his thumbs and carefully explained, "Now remember, Mary, teeth are never used on a blowjob. You use your teeth on me even once and it'll be the last time you use them for anything because I will rip them straight out of your head, do you understand me?"

Since she couldn't really answer, not with her jaw open like that, he nodded her head for her.

"Blow jobs are easy, you just take my penis in your mouth and start sucking, moving up and down the shaft, mimicking the way I'm thrusting into you when we make love." She was so nervous about doing a good job she was shaking, the poor girl, she was being ridiculous. Deciding to help her along, he guided her head forward and then released her jaw when his dick was in her mouth. "Back and forth, sweetheart, just like I said. And watch those teeth."

When she didn't do anything other than kneel there he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her up further until she was gagging around his girth, which earned her a slap across the cheek. "No disgusting sounds now. It's not rocket science, Mary, it's just a goddamn blow job and even someone as terrible at everything as you are should be able to manage to give one without fucking it up too much."

Eventually, with a hell of a lot of help on his part, she managed to do a passable job at getting him off. She was going to need more practice to be any good at it though. A _lot_ of practice. Also...

"You gotta learn to swallow, Mary. Think of it like me giving you a gift each and every time you blow me. You don't want to hurt my feelings and make me think you don't want my gifts, do you?" When she didn't respond he yanked her hair, pulling her to her feet. " _Do you?_ "

"No, sir!" She was crying again. It seemed like she was always crying over one thing or another. His Mary was so emotional.

"I thought not. Now I want you to go wash your face and then get the bucket and a rag and clean up the mess you made on the floor, thanks to you it's filthy. Once it's clean I expect you to punish yourself severely for ruining your own birthday. The clamps and the paddle I should think. Maybe the switch too, I'll let you decide what's best on that front. When you're done lock yourself in the closet and wait for me. I'm going to go have my dinner and then eat the cake I made for you. I slaved over than cake, Mary. I can't believe you're not letting me share it with you."

Unlocking her cuffs and shoving her into the bathroom on his way out the door he couldn't even work himself up to being surprised when she couldn't even get her feet under her properly and stumbled into the sink. Really, there were some days he didn't even know why he bothered trying to teach her anything.

By February enough snow had fallen that Samuel gave up trying to keep the path to the repurposed root cellar clear and only worried about making sure the area to and around the generator and the storage shed/actual root cellar was accessible. It was also in February that he decided to wean Mary off the hormones. 

She might still be small, but her breasts were now perfect. Round and beautiful mounds that he loved to knead and suckle and play with. Her nipples had been trained to perk up at the slightest touch and he loved making them harden to into points that couldn't be hidden by either her new bras or any of her dresses. Due to the cold she went naked less often, but he'd been careful when choosing her clothing and all of it was provocative and enticing, yet did not stray into being slutty or making her look cheap.

Thanks to her studying some of the books he'd gotten hold of before winter had set in she'd been able to take over caring for her hair and now took great pains to brush it out every morning before putting it up in intricate braids. In a way he missed being able to run his hands through it during the day and using it to yank her into his lap or pull her onto the bed but he couldn't fault her since the styles she'd mastered made her look so amazing.

Overall, he couldn't be prouder of how she'd thrived under his care. He'd taken a skinny, underfed, malnourished, unloved, rude, disrespectful child and turned her into a gorgeous, voluptuous, curvy, talented, well mannered, respectful woman. She was still learning, of course, but now she was so polite, so well behaved. No father could be prouder of his girl.

Which was why he was surprised when it all went to hell.

In a way, it could have sort of been considered his own fault. He had decided to move some of the bedroom furniture and trapped between the wall and the dresser he had found one of Mary's old etiquette books. It hit the floor with a thud, the pages bending this way and that. Planning to bring it out to the main room to reshelve, he decided he should straighten the edges first and that was when he noticed some writing in the margins. 

_Mommy and the baby died in a fire_

What the hell? Quickly flipping through the book he found other scribbles here and there.

_I am a boy_

_I had a baby brother (sister?)_

_daddy got drunk and started the fire- by accident?_

_I was 4? 5? when mommy died_

_HE is not my father_

_daddy killed mommy and the baby- he DIDN'T MEAN TO_

_I am NOT a girl_

_daddy had to go away but he didn't mean to hurt me_

_he is NOT my father!_

_my name is Dean_

_He scares me_

_I miss mommy_

_MY NAME IS DEAN_

_I was a boy_

_~~i'm gonna die here~~ _

Samuel sat on the bed and didn't go back into the main room for a long while.

Oh, Mary. These ramblings of hers. She must have written them quite some time ago - the penmanship here was atrocious, she'd really improved so much since then - but how could she ever write such things? Missing her mother, well that was understandable, what little girl didn't miss her mother, but the rest?

He _scared_ her?

She'd been on a lot of drugs back then, adjusting to the hormones, her system juggling doses of sedatives, along with benzos, ketamine, rohypnol and the occasional times he'd needed to give her uppers to counteract the rest. What had those drugs done to his poor girl? Thankfully they were well past the need for them anymore. The notes in the book had been written so long ago, it would be silly to bring them up now. Why make her remember such a confusing time? Especially considering how much she loved her life with him now. 

He took one final minute to collect himself before heading back out to the main room. Earlier that morning Mary had been trying to balance a book on her head while walking around the room and dropped it so when he'd gone into the bedroom to clean he'd left her bent over the table, a wrist chained to each of the far corners with her ankles tied to the legs in preparation for a second paddling and it wouldn't do to keep her waiting for long.

Finding Mary's scribbles threw Samuel off kilter the entire rest of the day. He didn't enjoy disciplining her anywhere as much as he normally did and he found himself so distracted while making dinner he almost burned it. He thought he was back to his normal self by bedtime and their lovemaking session was even more and amazing than usual. Falling asleep he told himself everything would be back to normal in the morning.

Except he woke up to find himself alone in bed.

What.

How.

He must have forgotten to lock her to the chains last night! It was routine- lock her in place, strip down, crawl into bed, fuck her senseless, go to sleep. Every night the same thing. How could he have forgotten that? What kind of danger had he put his girl in by making such a basic mistake?

Throwing off the blankets he quickly grabbed up some clothes and threw them on, pulling up his pants and trying to button them while running out of the room. What he saw there was like a punch to the gut. 

The bolt on the front door was hanging loose. 

Mary had left him.

His darling, sweet, innocent Mary was outside, probably lost in the snow. Possibly dead. What the hell had he done?

Yanking the door open he rushed into the mudroom, he was still getting his socks on even as he started planning out everything he'd need to go out searching for his girl when he stopped in his tracks. There, sitting on the top step, was Mary. There were some footprints in the snow that had fallen recently, but she obviously hadn't been able to go more than a few yards away from the cabin before having to turn back.

If she hadn't looked so forlorn, he might have laughed because of how ridiculous she looked. Since she had no shoes of her own she'd put on a pair of his boots and had wrapped herself in a blanket and several of his coats and jackets so all he could see of her was her face peeking out from under a bundle of random, mismatched pile of outerwear sitting on top of a pair of shoes.

"Mary?"

"I haven't been outside in so long. I thought maybe I could just go. Get away. But there's so much snow. Just snow, as far as I can see."

He wanted to yell. Scream. Hit and punch and paddle and shake her hard enough to rattle her bones. But none of that would help, not right now. "Even if it were warm out where did you think you were going to go?" he asked instead.

"I don't know," she admitted after a moment and then shrugged. "Away."

"Do you know where we are?" She shook her head. "What about what state we're in? Do you have any idea what direction you'd have to head in to get to the closest town? How far it is or how long it'd take you? Would you even know how to get to a road from here? Or where you'd have to go to find another human being? Well, Mary, do you?"

"No, sir."

"And what would you do if you found someone? What then?" He shoved his feet into the other pair of boots living in the mudroom and grabbed a coat off the rack, slipping it on before plunking down next to her on the step.

"I'd. I'd ask for help."

"What kind of help do you really think you'll get? With a body like yours, dressed the way you are right now."

"Then I'd ask them to take me to the police. The police could, they would help. You kidnapped me. They care about stuff like that."

"You've have to be able to prove it and provide evidence as to who you are, where you were, who I am, what you claim I've done. And I don't think you can. What were you going to even say? Do you have any idea how long you've been living with me? Do you even know what month it is?"

"We just... celebrated my birthday." Her tone was hesitant though, like she was grasping at straws and she knew it.

"Oh honey, that's not an answer. And besides, that was months ago. It's already almost Christmas again." Inching a bit closer to her he reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder, a gentle, soothing point of contact for them both. "Do you at least know what year it is?"

Instead of replying she bent over, burying her face in her knees and wrapping her arms around her head. That was a 'no' then. Good.

"Do you really think you can go back to the world out there? Are you sure you even want to?" He stood and held out his hand. "Come with me, I think you need to see something." 

She hesitated, torn. She might not be able to leave, but she surely didn't want to stay. "I'm not going to punish you, Mary. You being out here, it's my fault as much as yours, if not more. It's my job to keep you safe and I failed at that last night. It's cold out here though, and you're not dressed for it and I don't want you to get sick again so I'd like you to come back inside. Besides, like I said, I have something to show you."

Slowly, reluctantly, oh so reluctantly, she straightened up and he could see she'd been crying. 

"Please?" he offered his hand again and this time she took it. Not wanting to pressure her he simply waiting until she was ready and got to her feet. He led her back into the mudroom, shutting the door behind them but he didn't lock it. Letting her go, he walked past her, shucked off his boots and hung back up his coat before going back into the main room where he added some logs to the fire and began stoking it to warm the place up some. 

Eventually, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her slip into the room. "Shut the door, please, I want to try to heat the cabin back up. But you don't have to bolt it unless you want to." Leaving her to it, he headed into the bedroom. "Wash your face and come find me when you're ready."

When he'd built the vanity he'd added a two piece mirror to it, but protected it by designing it so it would be stored folded over on itself and then secured to the top of the dresser with a hook and eye. Mary had never questioned it and just used the back of the mirror as a writing surface as he'd intended. He had been waiting for the right moment to bring out the mirror to show Mary what a beautiful woman she'd become and that moment was now. 

It didn't take more than a few minutes to set it up and he even had time to give it a quick polish before Mary appeared in the doorway. She'd left the boots and coats in the mudroom, leaving in her blue shift with the blanket wrapped around her shoulders. "Come take a look," he said, gesturing to the mirror. 

Hesitantly she inched forward. "What am I," she began, but trailed off when she saw the mirror. "Oh."

Samuel watched as she took in her appearance. The long blond waves cascading from her head. Her beautiful cheekbones and bright full lips. The swell of her breasts. The flair of her hips. "Oh," she repeated.

"Look at yourself, honey. Really look." Samuel stepped forward and slowly tugged the blanket out of her grip. "Tell me what you see." 

"I." With trembling fingers she reached up with one hand and touched her hair before tracing her face and finally dipping lower, stopping on her collar bone, right above her breast. "I."

When she started to turn away from the mirror he planted himself behind her. "Tell me what you see." 

"I knew. But." She was shaking now and tilted her head down to the floor so she wouldn't have to look anymore. "But."

Lifting her chin, he forced her eyes back to mirror. "Tell me what you see," he ordered. "Tell me _who_ you see."

"A girl!" she yelled, then clasped her hand over her mouth.

"A girl. Yes," he said gently, kissing her on the top of her head. "A wonderful girl, who is kinder and sweeter than I have any right to ask her to be." Taking her other hand in his own he hugged before dropping her arm down her side to the bottom of her dress. "A beautiful girl, well on her way to womanhood." Wrapping her hand around the hem he began raising the dress before releasing her and letting her lift the dress up on her own.

She hesitated briefly when she revealed the edge of her panties, but then continued up, past the blue lace, over her flat stomach and up until her hands reached her breasts. He pried her other hand off her mouth and interwove their fingers, leaned over and whispered into her ear. "Keep going. You want to look, you know you do."

He could tell she wanted to; oh, how she wanted to.

And then she did.

She didn't touch them, he'd trained her better than that, but her eyes widened when she revealed her bare breasts. 

"Tell me who you see."

"Me."

"And who is that?"

"A girl." She looked away from her chest for the moment and when their eyes met in the mirror she added, "Mary."

"My Mary," he clarified as he reached his arms around her and began playing with her body, rolling one of her nipples between his fingers. Running their clasped hands over her underwear, stroking along where she was most sensitive, where he knew the scar would be.

"I'm Mary," she said, her breath hitching as she melted into his embrace. "Your Mary."

**Author's Note:**

> Full list of kinks: bathing, blindfolds, bondage, captivity, castration, drugging, forced-feeding, forced feminization, gags, gaslighting, grooming, intercrural, kidnapping, oral-sex, manipulation, non-con, non-con body-modification, penectomy, restraints, sensory deprivation, strangulation, suffocation, and underage (Dean is eleven).
> 
> It is revealed that prior to the events in the story Samuel's wife did not like the nature of the feelings he was having towards their daughter and he killed her when she confronted him about it. It's also implied that the original Mary had gotten pregnant before dying but does not specify how that relates to her death. In an attempt at filling Mary's place in his life (and in his bed) Samuel kidnapped many girls but killed them (either accidentally or on purpose), sometimes prostituting them first when they didn't meet his expectations before he discovered and kidnapped Dean.


End file.
